


Stars Rise and the Stars Fall (The Brightest Ones Aren't Stars At All)

by timedoesntexist



Category: BLACKPINK (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: (he's kind of a space pirate/gambler/ganster you're gonna love him), Alternate Universe - Space, Bounty Hunter! Lisa, F/F, GAYS. IN. SPACE., Gangster! Hoseok, Guard! Seokjin, Hate to Love, I'm so hype for this au guys, Kind of Star-War-sy if you want it to be, Kinda, Lesbians in Space, M/M, Magic, Magical Smuggler! Jennie, Magical Space Prince! Taehyung, Mechanic! Rose, More tags to be added, Multi, Rebel! Yoongi, Rebels, Royals, Slow Burn, Smuggler! Jisoo, Space Monarchy, Space Witch! Jungkook, Space Witch! Yoongi, Witches, also featuring:, cyborg! Jimin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 07:40:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15724956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timedoesntexist/pseuds/timedoesntexist
Summary: Jeon Jeongguk wants peace. He was born into a galaxy turned upside-down in turmoil by the imperial conquests of Eros I, a planet that they say shines bright as gold--and the people do, too. He made a promise a long time ago that he was going to take his chance and run far, far away from the wars that tear his home system apart, but he can't find peace until he takes down the empire that stole his family--starting with Kim Taehyung.Kim Taehyung wants out. He was born into a family with their hands already soaked in blood and magic, a planet with repugnance beneath the golden veneer that he knows all too well. He wants to run away to a far corner of the universe, where the sins of his family can no longer find him, but somehow he keeps getting dragged back in.Everyone wants something. The universe has other plans.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gleam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleam/gifts).



> This is a space idea I came up with after @gleam (@bluelinings on Twit) made [these](https://twitter.com/bluelinings/status/1030908816714555393) amazing moodboards. I'm really hype for this AU--I've been plotting it for forever and am really excited to finally post it!
> 
> title from Liz Phair "Stars and Planets"

The twin suns of Agape came to rest on the crest of the horizon and the wind whipped through the Indigo Hawthorn trees as Jeon Jeongguk ran home along the dirt path, counting his footsteps.

"Four-hundred ninety-five, four-hundred ninety-six--" he finished and looked up at his house.

"Told you, Seyeon!" he yelled to his sister on the front porch and pushed up the visor on the captain's helmet he'd found laying around the scrapyard."Four-hundred ninety-six, every time!"

His sister, who was five and not as fond of his games as he was, glares at him. "That's just because you're older," she said, glaring at him. "It's not fair."

"Is too," said Jeongguk, walking up the steps. "You just have to take longer strides."

His other sister, Haeun, was inside the kitchen, peeling the Eidark yams and humming a song under her breath.

"Whatcha making?" Jeongguk asked, swiping a slice from under her knife.

"You're annoying," she informed him.

"I know," he said, chewing happily.

"You ran down to town?" she asked.

"Yup," he said.

"And?" she leaned forward and Jeongguk brought the basket out from behind his back. As the oldest it was his job to go to the markets in the morning to see whatever the shipments had brought in from the harvest. The farms were outside the city, where the smog of the mines could not reach, but the shipments came every day, bright and early, and there was always a scramble for the freshest produce.

"I bought everything that Mom said we had to get," he said, grinning at her. "Also, I had some extra money, but don't tell them, okay?" He passed her a ring of candy and his sister's eyes grew wide.

"Thanks, Gukkie!" she grinned, biting into one.

"You're welcome," he said, popping one into his mouth. "No, you have to suck on it, like that, see?"

She looked at him with wide eyes and nodded.

"Alright," he grinned, mussing up her hair.

His mother wandered out of the hallway. "Oh, you've got the produce," she said. "Thank you, Gukkie." She patted his head, or more accurately, the helmet resting on top of his head. "Jooho!"

His father wandered out of the bathroom. "Jeongguk," he said, grinning and clapping him on the back. "Are you still wearing that helmet everywhere?"

"Yes," said Jeongguk.

"That's my boy," his father grinned. "We're going to have ourself the first ever miner-pilot here!"

"You can't be a miner-pilot," said his sister Haeun logically.

"Why not?" his father asked.

"One's in the ground and one's in the air," she said. "It's never been done before."

"Well, my boy Jeongguk will just have to be the first," said his father, clapping him on the shoulder. “Damned clever. Fixed our radiator last winter.”

Jeongguk shrugged. He was just good at figuring things out, always had been. His grandparents had given him some scrap parts and had watched with disbelief as he’d undone the whole thing, found the broken filter, and fixed it. They gave him bits to play with occasionally, just scraps and gears and such. He once made a wind-up toy for his sisters before it got smashed by a passing boot.

"Jeongguk was born wanting to reach the stars. And now he's even got the helmet!"

His sister rolled her eyes.

Jeongguk turned to his father. "I have to go to work now. See you later!"

"Love you, my Gukkie!" said his mother.

"Bye, Gukkie!" his sister said.

"Don't forget your lunch." His mother pressed a knapsack into his hand and kissed him right on the top of his helmet.

And with that he ran out the door, muttering under his breath quietly, "One, two, three, four--"

It would be the last time he saw them all alive.

 

✵✵✵

 

He didn't see it coming.

No one did, really. Until it was too late.

It happened like this. Jeongguk was waiting in the shop owned by his grandparent's; it was old, and one of the only shops in the entire mining colony, and certainly the only one that catered to their neighborhood. Jeongguk's family were good people, honest people, he would say, who believed in the value of a good day's work. His parents were miners; his father had been born into a mining family, and his mother had married into it.

His grandparents' insisted that one day they would take over the shop and leave the mining sector for the nicer parts of the city. Although they were granted a bit more land to live on the outskirts of the mines and the quarries, the air was often ridden with dust and fragments of minerals.

But Jeongguk's father was adamant that he stay a miner; it was what his family had done, what his line had always done and he wasn't going to give it up. He relented that his children be allowed to work in the shop until they were of age, and then they could make their own choice. But his father was the leader of the Mining Guild; it was not an easy job, nor was it a very thankful one, but his father insisted that they were very lucky to live in a place where they _were_ guilds, where they didn't have to live in fear of some cruel overseer or mining corporation. Here, he insisted on Agape, a miner could eke out a good, life, if not an exceedingly comfortable life.

His sisters were too young to help in the shop yet, but Jeongguk had been working ever since he turned eight, stocking the shelves and checking out customers. He knew most of them, anyway; people who lived near him, the mothers of his friends and such. They smiled at him, said that he was a good boy for helping out his grandparents'.

That was some of his family friends, at least, friends of his grandparents and parents who had known him forever. He saw in the faces of some of the miners a shift; a change. Here, they recognized, he was not a miner but a shopkeeper; a shopkeeper who may have catered to miners, but a shopkeeper nonetheless.

"Jeongguk, I don't like that cough," his grandmother fussed when he broke into a fit for the third time that morning.

"No!" said Jeongguk, who was trying to save up to buy presents for the Winter Holidays (and something for himself, as well). "I can stay!"

"How about this," said his grandmother, smiling kindly. "I'll give you the pay for the day if you go on home and get some rest."

"Are you sure?" he asked skeptically. "You don't need me?"

"We don't need that cough scaring off all our customers, that's for sure!" his grandfather said, but the corners of his eyelids crinkled up into smiles. "Go on home, Jeongguk."

And Jeongguk did go home--or he wanted to, at least, until he was on his way home and he heard a loud groaning. He frowned and stopped by the path, squinting around him and privately moaning losing count.

"Hello?"

"Jeongguk?" asked a weak voice. Jeongguk made his way through the ferns. "Who is that?"

It was a boy around his age, Minsun. He lived in the same neighborhood, and Jungkoook had always known him to be a pleasant, smiling boy, if not very smart. He was lying in the bushes, face contorted into a mask of pain.

"What's wrong?" asked Jeongguk.

"I fell," says Minsun. "I think--I think I broke my leg."

Jeongguk looked down and nearly gagged, but he managed to stop himself. People got injured in the mines all the time; charges blew up before they were supposed to, people swung picks the wrong way. Not to mention that some pretty volatile ingredients were mined on Agape; the stuff that was used to make rocket fuel, Heulsular. But still, the sight of the bone sticking out of Minsun's leg was enough to make him cringe.

He was leaning against a tree; beyond that, the ground dropped off abruptly into a long thicket. Judging by the scratch marks on his arms and face, he seemed to have dragged himself upwards and come to rest against the tree.

"I'll go get someone," he said.

"What's that?"

Minsun pointed up to the sky. Jeongguk hadn't even noticed, they were so silent; a pair of three ships, all of the purest gold, the head ship a fine, needle-pointed, delicate thing and the other two large freighters, but nonetheless magnificent. And terrifying.

Everyone had heard the rumors, of course. They said that the people of Eros I were a cruel, sophisticated people who lived on a planet made of pure gold. So precious was it, before it was discovered that there was gold virtually everywhere in the galaxy, that the people of Eros I had been enslaved, colonized, and attacked again and again over the years; so downtrodden were they that they said the planet had developed a special kind of magic for it's protectors, to save its children. Even though everyone knew they were normal humans like everyone else, it was said that they possessed a grim kind of magic--and no one was better at wielding it than the royal family, who had clawed their way to the top using brute force and trickery.

But they said that the magic came at a great cost of life; that those who dared to use it had to take the lives of others to save their own. It was widely believed that this was just hearsay, used to enhance the reputation of those of Eros I, but one thing was for certain; they were now ruthless colonizers, who pillaged planet after planet, turning entire populations in to their own personal gold mines, so to speak.

Everyone in the galaxy knew that only one army dared to fly in ships made of pure gold. Everyone in the galaxy knew what this meant.

Minsun looked at Jeongguk, terrified. "The--gold--"

"I have to go," said Jeongguk.

"Where are you going?" Minsun demanded, grabbing for him. "You can't just leave me here!"

"I have to get my sisters," said Jeongguk. They were still in the house. He had to find them and . . . he didn't know what, next. His family didn't have a ship. "I'm gonna go get my dad."

"Jeongguk, I can't walk--" Minsun latched onto his arm.

"Minsun, let go I have to--" Jeongguk struggled with him, but he was unbalanced on the roots and Minsun pulled too hard and Jeongguk fell; he fell past the tree and into the thicket, where he yelled and hit his head and knew no more.

 

✵✵✵

 

Jeongguk woke to the sound of Minsun screaming.

He lifted his head up. It hurt; he'd hit it on the side and he felt the wound with his fingers. They came back sticky with blood.

"No--no--" Minsun yelled. "My parents are very important people, I'll have you know!" He was lying.

Jeongguk peered up through the thicket. There were two men standing over Minsun; soldiers, judging by the armored plating he could make out through the trees. The soldiers lifted him up and one of them threw him over his shoulder like a sack of meat.

"He's no good with that leg," said the other one. "Oh, shut up, you said that your parents were miners."

"I lied!" Minsun said. "They're--politicians!"

The soldier smirked. "Not with those clothes, they're not," he said, shaking his head. "Put him with the other chattel."

The soldier carrying Minsun nodded and they walked off together.

Jeongguk's head was still ringing as he watched them dissapear; he wondered what the soldier meant by _chattel_. He sniffed and he thought he could smell something burning.

What had happened? He'd been walking, had run into Minsun, saw him with his leg, and then they had argued because Jeongguk wanted to go back and get--

 _Seyeon. Haeun._ His family. They were still in danger and--

He stood up, and all the blood rushed to his feet. He swore--one of the words he had picked up from the older miners who sometimes hung around the front of the shop--and stumbled up the hill, finding his way to the path and walking alongside it, parallel so he was partially hidden in the trees.

His house was empty, abandoned. Seyeon didn't side on the front porch and the lights weren't turned on. He ran up the stairs.

"Seyeon!" he yelled. "Haeun!" He ran frantically, nearly slipping and falling in his haste to move from room to room. "It's Gukkie! Mom! Dad!"

They were gone.

No. Seyeon and Haeun always stayed in the house on days when school wasn't in session; Seyeon would be playing with her dolls or making up stories and Haeun would be cooking or cleaning or studying. She was always so studious, Haeun, always so helpful, that's why their entire family relied on her even more than Jeongguk.

"Haeun," he whispered.

Screams. Screams from outside.

_The town._

He sprinted to the town through the grove of Indigo Hawthorne trees, stopping when he saw the people assembled in the square. There was a gold uniform in the tree in front of him; they were all posted around the outside of the square. Guarding. Keeping him from getting in?

He looked at the townspeople, the miners, the few shopkeepers, all gathered together in the town square, all cowering while a figure dressed all in gold spoke from the steps of the government building.

No. To keep them from getting out.

He crept closer, trying to avoid the attention of the guard. It wouldn't have mattered, anyway. They weren't looking for outside threats; they'd already emptied the mines, the houses, the shops, the woods. They'd already assembled all of the people together, in this one place. For what, Jeongguk wasn't sure.

The man dressed in gold had three small figures standing next to him, along with a beautiful woman, who stared on at the terrified people like she was watching a rather amusing play.

"We are not unreasonable," the man was saying. "Life under Eros I is peaceful. We offer our protection from all attacks. No one would dare mess with a system allied with us."

"And what if we don't want your protection?" one of the miners asked. Jeongguk recognized him. He was Doyun, one of the older miners, his father's oldest friend. He'd played with his son, Junseo.

The man turned to him coldly. "Then I'd suggest you reconsider."

 

✵✵✵

  


Taehyung was bored.

He looked at all of the people and frowned. They all looked so scared. He wanted to tug on his father's robe, ask why they were being so difficult, but his father had told him that since this was the first time he was allowed to leave Eros I, he had to behave himself.

Princes always had to behave themselves.

Minkyu was standing next to him, with an expression that Taehyung was sure he thought was "stately", their mother's hand clenched around his shoulder protectively. Of course, Minkyu was the oldest, so he was the most important, and their mother's favorite. Taehyung didn't really mind. Well, he _did_ mind, but he was ten years old and he'd learned a long time ago that sometimes things just weren't fair, especially in the case where his parents were concerned.

In any case, it meant that he was ignored and was allowed to get up to pretty much whatever he wanted.

Eunji poked him. "Pay attention," she whispered out of the corner of her mouth. She was thirteen and Taehyung though she was bossy. "Father said that this was important."

"What's so important?" asked Taehyung. "They're just complaining." He twisted his face into a frown and scrutinized the people. Didn't they know that Eros I would protect them? That living under an Erosian rule was far preferable to whatever they had here? They were all wearing dirty clothes and looked unhappy and smelly; nothing compared to the streets of Eros I, paved in gold.

"Of course they're complaining," said Eunji. "Father wants to turn them into a mining colony."

"What's so bad about that?" Taehyung asked curiously.

Eunji rolled her eyes like he couldn't possibly understand and went back to watching the people cower.

 

✵✵✵

 

"I don't feel like reconsidering." Doyun crossed his arms and the man sighed.

"Then we'll make an example out of you," he said quietly. "Bring him forward." He gestured to two guards.

"No."

A man spoke up, and it wasn't Doyun, but his voice was still familiar.

Jeongguk's father stood up and faced the man in gold.

"He's done nothing wrong," he said. "You offered your protection, and he declined."

The man in gold looked almost amused. "And you are?"

"My name is Jeon Jooho," said his father. "I'm the head of the Miner's Guild."

"We don't have Guilds on Eros I," said the man in gold. "Everyone is compensated equally."

"All the same, we miners would rather not take you up on your offer," he said, crossing his arms. His mother knelt behind him, clutching back his two sisters from leaping onto their father. They were both crying silently.

"Fine," said the man dispassionately. "You, then."

The guards seized his father by the arms and pulled him up the stairs, forced him to kneel in front of the man. Jeongguk watched, frozen from behind the tree.

"People of Agape," said the man. "Hear my decree; I am the Emperor Kim Sungjin of Eros I and all Erosian colonies, and this is what happens to those who disobey me."

He stretched out his arm in front of Jeongguk's father; Jeongguk couldn't see his face but he could see his back; he was kneeling straight, tall, proud. Then something peculiar began to happen; golden energy swirled from the emperor's palm and found it's way into his father's mouth--his skin seemed to dull as it touched him, almost as if he was drawing something out of him.

It was over in a few seconds. The emperor lowered his hand and the guards dropped him. His father fell limply down the steps. Dead.

"Take his family on the ship," said the emperor. "Put them with the other chattel. I see no reason for this bloodline to continue."

 _"Daddy!"_ Haeun screamed, breaking her mother's hold and running towards him. One of the guards must have thought she was going for the emperor; a seven-year-old girl. He hit her over the head and she fell back, limp. He slung her over his shoulder and carried her onto the ship that was perched on the roof of the town building.

"Take the rest of them," said the emperor. The guards moved to grab his mother and Jeongguk screamed,

_"No!"_

The guard posted on the tree whipped around to face him. "Hey, we missed one!" he yelled.

Jeongguk stood, frozen, tears that he didn't know he was crying streaking down his cheeks.

"Don't just stand there!" yelled one of the other guards. "Grab him!"

"Come here, kid!" the guard yelled.

Jeongguk took one look at him and ran.

 

✵✵✵

 

Taehyung watched the man fall back with wide eyes.

It wasn't that he didn't know that the ceremony existed; the transfer of energy, of life to magic. He'd seen it happen before; sometimes with willing subjects, radicals, sometimes with the less . . . inclined. But he'd never see anyone die. That had been hidden from him.

"He's dead," he said quietly.

"Well, duh," said Minkyu haughtily. "Did you really think that Father was just going to let him live?"

"He didn't have to kill him," said Taehyung quietly.

"Yes, he did," said Eujin tiredly. She looked at him, and Taehyung saw a grim kind of understanding in her eyes. "You'll understand someday, Taehyung."

Taehyung shook his head. _I don't think I want to understand._

 

✵✵✵

 

Jeongguk could only run so far before passing out.

Maybe it was the blood oozing from his head, maybe it was the sickness, maybe it was the fact that he had just watched his father get murdered and his entire family get kidnapped. But he did know that he awoke to being carried by a guard.

"Don't struggle," said the guard. "You'll make it harder on yourself."

Jeongguk struggled anyway, but the guard held him in place.

"Kid," he said, his voice pleading. "Please. I don't want to do this."

"Sure you don't," said Jeongguk, then remembered one of the curse words he'd learned. "Fucker." He wasn't sure what it meant, but he knew that it was something bad.

"Look," said the guard. "I can't let you go, but I can help you if you just shut up for five seconds?"

The guard wasn't that much larger than him, or that much older than him.

"Trust me," said the guard. "Please."

Maybe because it was easier than fighting, or maybe because he felt a rush of blood going to his head again, Jeongguk let himself go limp.

The guard walked up to another one of the soldiers. "Hey, didn't you say that they're looking for slaves for the Keqi system?" he asked.

"How old is that kid?" asked the other guard. "Eight?"

"Young enough to forget," said Jeongguk's guard. "He's got good teeth, too. I checked."

"Hm," said the guard. "Well, he doesn't _look_ like he's ever worked in the mines, that's for sure. He'd be pretty fucking useless here." He jerked his thumb. "Put him on the transport, we'll see what we can do with him."

Jeongguk's guard nodded and carried him away.

"You said you were going to help me!" Jeongguk hissed. "You're going to send me to another system?"

"Look, kid, have you ever worked in the mines before?" the guard hissed back. Jeongguk couldn't see his face from the royal guard's mask he wore; it was fine, ornate, in the shape of a sun.

"No," he said.

"Then you'd die out here," the guard said. "No question about it. I might be able to give you a _chance_ at living."

"What's the Keqi system, then?" asked Jeongguk.

"It's a massive party planet," said the guard. "The work won't be easy, but it'll be easier. I can promise you that."

Anger flamed through Jeongguk. "I don't _want_ that!" he yelled, pounding him on the back. "I want my family!"

"Keep it down, kid!" the guard pinched his leg. "Do you wanna end up dead?"

"Dead?" Jeongguk asked, heart stilling.

"I saw you yell when they killed that man," said the guard. "You're related to him, aren't you?"

Jeongguk sniffed. "He's my father." _Was my father._

"They'll kill you if they find out," said the guard. "They'll drain you dry, just like they did him."

"My mom--my sisters--I have to help them!" Jeongguk tried to look him in the eye. "You can help us!"

"You wouldn't get ten meters away from that ship and they'd kill us all, and maybe the whole town with us," said the guard. "I can save you. Just. You."

He carried up up a space ramp and Jeongguk tried to twist around to see the front of it. He'd never seen a spaceship before; it was huge and alien to him.

"My sisters will die," he said accusingly. "Because of you."

"Keep your voice down," said the guard. He walked to a lower level of the spaceship and nodded to another guard who stood in front of a door. The door unlocked and he stepped in. "You don't know that man, understand? You'd seen him around and you knew of him, but he meant nothing to you."

"Why? Why do I have to lie?"

"Look, kid," said the guard, setting him down on the ground. The room, unlike the rest of the ship, was dull steel. The wall was cold. Jeongguk hunched against it. "I've seen this happen before. You think you have friends now? Wait until it's six months in and everyone is starving to death. People will do anything to score an extra slice of bread."

"What's that have to do with me?" Jeongguk stared at him, eyes red.

The guard looked away. "You're the son of a known revolutionary who should be dead," he said ."On that chattel ship right now."

"What's chattel?"

The guard cradled his head in his hands like he was seeking forgiveness for something. "It's what the royal family uses for--for energy," he said. "You don't want to be on that ship."

"Why can't you just take my sisters to Keqi like you took me?" he asked, looking at him pleadingly.

"Because they've already seen your sisters," said the guard. "No one but me has seen you." He shook his head. "You're going to go to Keqi, and they'll probably put you in a kitchen or in a dining room somewhere, but you'll be alive and safe, you understand?"

"I don't want to be alive anymore," Jeongguk sniffled and wiped his nose.

The guard put his hand on his shoulder. "Yes, you do," he said quietly. "You will."

"I want him dead," he said quietly. His eyes burned fire into the guard's armor. "I want them all dead."

"I know you do," the guard said quietly. "I did too." He's really not that old--maybe four, five years older than Jeongguk is. "But you'll get your revenge."

"How?" There's no revenge. No if he's throwing him on some slave ship away from his family. Jeongguk's heard the stories. He knows that his parents didn't want him to, but he's heard the stories.

"You're going to get on this ship and you're going to behave yourself," the guard said. "I mean it--do you understand?" He pointed at him. "You're going to be a good little servant to them. And then--stars, they'd kill me for saying this--as soon as you see an opening, you're going to run like hell and never look back. Do you understand?"

"That's revenge?" Jeongguk asked.

"Your revenge," the guard said. "Is that you're going to live. That's your revenge."

He stood to leave.

"Why don’t you run?" Jeongguk asked.

The guard took off his mask--he was young. Far, far too young; maybe fourteen? Fifteen? Handsome, even in an awkward age, but sad. His eyes were that of an old man."My little brother," he said quietly. "I can't leave him."

And with that he stood and walked away, leaving him alone and huddled in the corner of the cell. He stayed there for awhile. He wanted to run after the guard, to beg him to come back. He wanted his mother; he wanted to scream for her, he wanted to scream for his father and his sisters. Stars, he wanted to be _held_ like a little kid again in his mother's arms, to be put on his father's shoulders and paraded around like the proud son that he was.

But instead he sat there in the cold cell until he felt a drop in his stomach and knew that the plane had lifted off, taking him away from his family, from his planet, from everything that he had ever known.

 

✵✵✵

 

"Seokjin!" Taehyung jumped on the guard as soon as he made his way inside the ship. He was late. Why was he late?

"Taehyung." Seokjin hugged him to his side. The little prince had been attatched to him for a long time, ever since he was ten and Seokjin thirteen, training to be a guard in the military barracks section of the palace. "Why aren't you with your family?"

"I hid," said Taehyung. "In the ship."

"Why?"

Taehyung looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "They killed that man."

"Yes," said Seokjin sadly, trying to keep it out of his voice. He was soldier. Soldiers did not mourn the deaths of those they crushed under their boot. "They did."

"Why?" Taehyung asked. "Why did they have to kill him?"

Seokjin hugged him to his side. "It's okay, Taehyung," he said quietly. "You'll understand one day."

"What if I don't want to understand?" Taehyung looked up at him with huge, wide eyes. It was funny; he was around the same age that Seokjin was when he was taken from his own family. Even though he knew that logically he should hate the spawn of his conquerors, he couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him.

"C'mon, your family will worry," Seokjin said, prying him off and putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him. He needed it; he was shaking so hard that there would surely be consequences if his father noticed, but all the same Seokjin knew he was forbidden to touch members of the royal family. "Let's go."

Taehyung followed him sullenly up into the royal family's quarters of the ships. The guards saw Taehyung and opened the door, frowning at Seokjin.

"Why are you here?" one of them asked. He was one of the royal guards, denoted by his armor.

"I was reporting to my supervisor and I saw him downstairs," said Seokjin. "I was just returning him."

The guard frowned but let him enter. Taehyung skipped over to his mother and hugged her. She seemed a little shocked; Seokjin didn't know the royal family that well, but he'd never seen them show very much affection before.

"Bye, Seokjin!" Taehyung waved.

"Bye, Taehyung," said Seokjin quietly, and watched the door close behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COOOMMMEEBBBBAAAACCCCKKKKKKKKK
> 
> Idol's. MV. Is. Fuckening. Hype. 
> 
> anyways another day another chapter. this AU is just getting gradually more star war-zy. Prob bc Im watching Star Wars as I post this but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> thanks for reading everyone!! <3 <3 <3

"Jeon Jeongguk!"

Jeongguk looked around from where he was scrubbing a pan. His hands were red and raw, the scalding water pouring down. He didn't know why the kitchens didn't just make the droids do it.

Unless, of course, they thought that it would wear them down more to work with their hands. To go to sleep with their palms stinging and bleeding, their legs tired. Broke them down more, he supposed, and all that.  

His supervisor was glaring at him. Sangchul. He was from the Xunthar people, or he had been. They were all castaways here, picked up off home planets brought down by the empire or plucked away throughout the galaxy, from fallen gang and human trafficking rings to ruffians on the streets of the Eros I-controlled planets that were brought in for re-education. Tattoos traced down his body, swirling lines made of a mixture of ink and scarring. He was a tall, burly man, much larger than Jeongguk.

It had been three years.

Three years of slaving away on Yeqi. Three years of dishes and not enough food and too many people to serve. Watching delicacies go out of the kitchen and serving them to people. They didn't even finish their plates most nights, but Jeongguk had learned early on that you weren't supposed to touch the leftovers. He'd seen a girl get whipped so many times she couldn't walk for a week, had to stay in bed. The other kids stayed away from her after that; it wasn't personal, but it became a habit to stay away from the troublemakers. Keep your head down and do your job, that was how you stayed alive.

Sure, it might have been different in the beginning. When he arrived he was a kid with anger to burn, who went to sleep every night with the memories of his father's fall, the memories of his sisters' and mother's faces plastered in his mind as they were carried off. _Chattel._ He had argued with Sangchul in those early days as best he knew how. Standing up to him when he went off on the younger ones--some of them were only six or seven--for crying because their bellies were empty, sneaking some food out to the ones in confinement or who were forced to skip the small meals they were allotted. He'd been angry, angry because he'd lost everything, and angry because it wasn't _fair._

But Jeongguk was thirteen years old now, thirteen years old and much older than that in his experience, and he knew that nothing was really fair anymore. So he was going to keep his head down and look the other way when he saw something he didn't agree with. He was going to ignore the gold Erosian standards, ignore the fact that the people he served were arms dealers and prominent members of the royal court. He was going to ignore the fresh batch of kids who were brought in every so often, crying and screaming for their parents sometimes, the others just quiet, and some, like him, angry.

He'd let his anger simmer on the inside. Simmer and burn like ice, like cold fire, like the stars that burned with the frost of a thousand winters. He wouldn't boil over and set himself on fire in the process.

 _You're going to live._ He hadn't forgotten the words of the guard, and he had been looking for an out for years. Nothing had ever come of it.

"How may I help you?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Sangchul jabbed a finger into his chest. "Jia is indisposed," he said. "You're going to take her place."

Jeongguk shrugged and took the apron from him. "I'll need to change," he said, looking down at his stained uniform.

Sangchul growled. "Do it quickly."

He swept off and Jeongguk ran to the uniform closet, pulling on the golden robes that the servers were required to wear. Jia was a server--older than him, as all the upstairs workers were. It was only the kids that got sent to the kitchens. Still, Sangchul had learned that after years of grinding him into the ground, he could trust Jeongguk to be a good boy and behave himself.

"You look nice," said Yugyeom, one of the kitchen runners, as he walked out. Probably the closest thing that Jeongguk had to a friend.

"Shut up," Jeongguk said, gritting his teeth and adjusting the collar. He supposed that with the whole flair of the casino people liked the idea of these old-fashioned robes, but did they really need to drag down to the ground?

"Are you blushing?" Yugyeom asked cheekily, and Jeongguk shook his head. Better to feel nothing--especially for a complete dick like _him._

"No," said Jeongguk. "I need to get to the floor or Sangchul will be pissed."

"Mm," said Yugyeom, turning back to his station. Jeongguk snuck a glance at him as he climbed the stairs.

Yeqi was what some might call a "party planet", that Jeongguk knew. He knew that it appeared to light up the skies when you flew close; he knew that clubs and casinos and other establishments of moral turpitude dotted the planet's surface like mites on a stray dog. He knew that the villas of the inhabitants were gigantic, and he also knew better than anyone that the slave trade was lucrative, brimming with profits, and mostly financed through the unofficial sponsor of the whole planet, Eros I.

But the grandest attraction was the Casino, called simply that because it needed no other name. Made completely out of gold--not surprising as their sponsor was a planet that literally was made, on it's crust, almost entirely out of the metal. It was huge, grand, containing miles of tables and green carpet. People and people-like beings came from all over just to drink it in. And Jeongguk was late for his shift.

"Checking in," he said to the shift supervisor, who pointed to an area of tables in one of the restaurants and told him to start waiting. Jeongguk didn't know what Jia had done wrong to be so indisposed. She was a very pretty girl, older than Jeongguk, and there was an aura of sadness about her. All of the slaves were sad, of course, but she was different, because she held it very clearly but also very much to herself. She had always seemed very old, but very kind. Not that Jeongguk had ever spoken more than a few works to her, but that wasn't her fault so much as his own.

Jeongguk sighed and got to work.

 

✵✵✵

 

"You hear whatever happened to Jia?" he asked Yugyeom later that night. All of the workers lived in the same shared space; some dank little corner of the casino underground, separated by gender but not by age.

Yugyeom shrugged. "Nothing good, I'd say," he said, tugging socks on his hands. They all bundled up extra warm during the winter months to keep the chill out of their bones.

"Yeah," said Jeongguk quietly, glancing around. There were the older ones--twenties or so. The thirty year olds usually were promoted to somewhat better living arrangements--that, or they were sent away from the casino to work god-knows-where. Most didn’t live long after that. He glanced over his shoulder to Yugyeom.

“Maybe we should ask around,” he said.

Yugyeom shrugged. “I doubt you’ll get an answer until she turns up again,” he said.

“And if she doesn’t?”

Yugyeom climbed into his mattress on the floor and rolled over to face him. “Then I doubt it’ll matter very much.

Jeongguk blinked. “Oh,” he said quietly.

“Don’t worry about it too much, Jeongguk,” said Yugyeom, blinking at him with wide eyes. He’d never told Jeongguk where he was from, and Jeongguk wasn’t knowledgeable enough to guess, but he had to assume that the people there were very, very cold. His hair was white--not blonde, but white, and his eyes had a red tinge to their pale irises. Pale skin--but they were all paler than they should have been down here, being away from the sun for so long. “You’re not as bad as you say you are, you know.”

Jeongguk blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Yugyeom shrugged. “You act like you don’t care about anybody, but you go asking after Jia.”

“I don’t care,” said Jeongguk stubbornly. “I was just curious.”

“Yeah, well,” said Yugyeom wistfully, staring at the ceilling. “It’s kind of refreshing, is all I’m saying.”

“Yeah, well,” Jeongguk shrugged. “Doesn’t get me anywhere.”

“Hmm.”

Yugyeom was quiet for a moment. “Do you think we’ll ever get out, Jeongguk?”

Jeongguk shrugged. “If I get a chance, I’m running.”

“Where to?” asked Yugyeom. “They’re growing, everywhere.”

“That’s just what they tell us to keep us in line,” said Jeongguk. “You don’t believe it, do you? There’s got to be neutral planets out there.”

“But--” Yugyeom fronwed. “You think you could ever feel safe again?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just mean that I don’t think I could just run and settle somewhere,” said Yugyeom. “I feel like I’d always be running.”

“So, what? Just stay here?” Jeongguk scoffed.

“I’d want to fight them,” said Yugyeom. “Join the resistance or whatever.”

Jeongguk shook his head. “That’s a good way to get yourself killed,” he said.

Yugyeom shrugged. “Hmm.”

Annoyed with his humming, Jeongguk rolled over away from the wall. “I’m not soft, you know,” he said, somewhat defensively.

“I never said that you were.”

“But you _thought_ it,” he said, rolling back over to face his friend. Yugyeom stared at him.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he said. “Having feelings.”

“Look around, Gyeom,” said Jeongguk, somewhat disparagingly. “It is here.”

At some point the lights were turned off, but Jeongguk stayed awake a long time after that, staring at the ceiling as if he hoped that it would fall down on top of him, and bring down the entire planet with it.

 

✵✵✵

 

“Seokjin,” said Taehyung pleasantly when the soldier entered the room. “Nice of you to drop in like this.”

Seokjin sighed. “I’m your personal guard, Taehyung,” he said, sounding tired. But not _too_ tired. Not that Taehyung would ever get onto him for anything, but if any of the guards or the servants or--stars forbid--a member of the royal family heard him speaking in such a disrespectful tone, he would be . . . well, he’s not entirely sure of the specifics, but he’s fairly sure that he would be made an _example,_ and he’s not too excited at the prospect. “I’m supposed to go wherever you go.”

“Romantic,” said Taehyung, glancing at himself in the mirror of his vanity. _Erosians._ Always so obsessed with looks. Like he’s some kind of princess instead of a somewhat bratty 14-year-old boy who really should learn the difference between a soldier and a friend.

Seokjin just rolled his eyes and stared straight ahead, as was his duty.

“We’re going on another--uh, diplomatic mission tomorrow,” Taehyung said, walking over to his closet and throwing the door open.

There had been a lot of diplomatic missions since the first one on Agape. Taehyung had learned that he was going to keep his head down, he was going to get through with it, and he was going to be fine. For the most part.

Sure, he’d lost track of how many people he’d watch die. But so, he was sure, had many people that he knew.

His father. Draining the energy out of people coldly, cruelly, like a scientist watching a flame die out while trapped beneath a glass.

His mother. She was beautiful, Taehyung knew that, and cold. Like a marble statue, standing on the steps or balcony of whatever capital they landed in like a true queen, an empress. Her expression never wavered, not for a moment.

And Minkyu. Minkyu, his older brother, who Taehyung knew would one day ascend to the throne. He felt no special love towards him, not since Minkyu had shoved him in a well when they were children and left him there overnight until a servant search party was sent out. Of course, he would have _known_ that servants would show up eventually, but that didn’t stop him from worrying and trembling in the dark.

Minkyu, he thought, almost seemed to enjoy the executions, landing on foreign soil and watching the blood spill to the ground, the bodies fall. He could have beeen wrong; he could have just been projecting his own fears onto his older brother. But sometimes he thought he could detect a faint smirk around his lips.

And Eujin. The one that he loved the most, staring straight ahead as if in imitation of their mother. He thought--wished, sometimes--that he saw some flickers of emotion crack through her mask. Like it wasn’t fully set yet, like she had adhered plaster to her face and he was watching it flake off. But he couldn’t be sure, and he never asked why the killing were happening ever again.

Seokjin, of course, had seen more than anyone. He knew that. He knew, somewhere, vaguely in the back of his mind that it was _his_ fault, in a twisted kind of way, that Seokjin was here in the first place. He saw the way that his jaw tightened sometimes when they landed on planets, when his father brought the people to their knees, when he demanded tributes, sacrifices, trade deals and resources all for the benefit of their “protection”.

Yeah. Taehyung had learned that that was bullshit a long time ago.

He could have been worse off, he supposed. He could have been like his brother—borderline sadist, seeming to actually _believe_ in their cause. And in the back of his mind he knew that it was, somewhat, a good thing that he felt something for the people. Of course, he knew that his parents didn’t _want_ their deaths; they were resources, just like anything else. And resources came with a price that always had to be paid; no matter how many gold palaces Taehyung had seen, no many how many diamonds, precious stones—his parents had taught him that nothing had ever come free. And sometimes the price of things was human lives.

It was the way that things were. You just couldn’t let it consume you, Taehyung knew, that was key. Keep moving and tell yourself that’s it’s all part of the greater system. That these people would have died anyway, eventually, and their deaths mean that their people can be safe.

Safe from people like his father.

It wasn’t that they had to go to _every_ planet that they conquered; mostly the ones that could be made in a short trip (then again, with light speed and warp-jumps, very little _couldn’t_ be made in a short trip; the Kims believed in the latest of _everything,_ and technology was no exception). They were the weak planets, or the planets that had just come to surrender. Taehyung knew there was fighting, brutal war campaigns and guerrilla warfare, in many of the other systems. But the Kims were a _symbol_ to these weaker colonies, the one that could muster an army or who had already been easily defeated. A glowing, shining symbol of their own futility against such a force.

And, Taehyung’s father was sure to remind them, they would be running this dynasty soon—Minkyu most directly of course, but Taehyung knew that his uncles were very involved in the court as well. He viewed them just as he did the other members of the court, except that they enjoyed a slightly higher status and were allowed to dine more frequently with the royal family. There was no family bond there, however; the blood that joined them together was a mere contract, and it paled in comparison to the pact of the royal court, of the demands of being in the service of Eros I.

And he knew, vaguely, that there were half-siblings as well; concubines and even lovers of the king, who his mother looked upon the way she looked upon everything; dissaposionately, as if it was beneath her notice. She had her royal favorites as well; she had to be more careful and more secretive about such encounters than their father, but Taehyung knew a few of them well enough to pick them out in a crowd. Not that he ever would havea reason to do so.

As for his half-siblings, he had never seen any of them, and he didn’t particularly care to. He knew that his father had many queen consorts on ruling planets, often political marriages for the sake of appearances and such. He’d help much curiousity about them in his younger years, when he’d heard the servants speaking of them in hushed tones; who supposedly looked like their father. But they could not inherit, as they were not children of the Imperial Empress, and thus, although they would often hold high-ranking government positions by virtue of their birth (if, and only if, they were qualified for such an honor, of course), or in the case of satellite colonies, they would continue the puppet monarchy with little real power. Now, although he still sometimes ached to know them, he knew that they would be but strangers to him, perhaps resentful. There was a reason he had been sheltered from them as a child, a reason why the codes for their behavior and the inheritance of the crown were so stringent and well-defined that half-siblings held little, if any, claim to the throne. There was a reason he had been taught that he was to learn his duties (somewhat less than his two older siblings, as the third in line), from an early age, to prove his worthiness and the worthiness of his bloodline.

His father did not believe in lazy monarchs, those who preferred poetry and the arts to the battlefield.

“Not that you should have to dirty your hands _too_ much,” he told them constantly. “You kill when it is necessary, for a show of power, but you are not a maniacal tyrant who kills at will. Life and death is a tool, and a good ruler wields it wisely like a sharp knife, not stepping away and running from it, but not using it like a hammer, either.”

He wanted them to see as much of the work they would have to do as possible. Say what you would about his father, but Taehyung knew that he was, if anything, dedicated to his planet. And he was determined that his children should be as well.

“I’m notified of your schedule,” Seokjin reminded him, tightening his grip on his spear. It was pretty, traditional, and it also shot laser bolts at a distance of half a kilometer.

“Yes, yes,” said Taehyung, picking his way through his clothing and crawling in the back, where he had made a nook there, piling up expensive furs and silks. His mother would have a stroke if she knew. “What time do we leave?”

“In the—” Seokjin could barely be heard out in the main room. “Do you want me to come in there, Majesty?”

“Oh, drop the act, Seokjinnie,” Taehyung said, batting his hands away. “I’ve known you since I, was like, ten.”

Seokjin hesitated, then stepped inside the closet. Taehyung was lounging in a sea of fine fabrics, looking dismal. “Are you alright, Majesty?”

“Yes, fine,” said Taehyung, pointing to the ottoman. “Sit there.”

Seokjin hesitated, then sat awkwardly.

“You ever think about them?” asked Taehyung.

“Who?”

“The people that you saw die,” said Taehyung, turning to face him. Seokjin fidgeted.

“S—sometimes, I suppose,” he said quietly, dropping his mask for a little while. Metaphorically, of course. Physically, his face was still obscured by the sun-adorned mask covering most of his face. “It’s natural, Ma—Taehyung.”

Taehyung clucked his tone in satisfaction at the name, then frowned.

“I’ve forgotten so many of them,” he said. “I used to try to keep track . . . remember their deaths, I suppose, but we’re so far in . . .” he trailed off. “Have you ever killed anyone, Seokjin?”

Seokjin stared at him. “Not if I can avoid it,” he said quietly.

“Have you ever _saved_ anyone?”

Seokjin avoided his gaze. “Maybe a few times . . .” he said, frowning. “This is all in strictest confidence, Majesty.”

“Please,” Taehyung waved his hand. “I’m not going to have you executed for some harmless gossip.”

“You call this gossip?”

“I call it whatever I like,” said Taehyung, finding a package of seeds in one of his robe pockets and popping one in his mouth. “Just a couple of courtesans, chattering about romance and whatnot.”

“It’s life and death, Taehyung.”

“Isn’t everything?”

Seokjin stood up and muttered something that sounded suspiciously of _“moody teenagers”_ and made an excuse about needing to return to his post. Taehyung stayed in his nook for awhile, but he didn’t come out. Seokjin, he supposed, assumed that he was asleep. He wasn’t. He just stared into the robes, the silks and furs dripping in the galaxy’s blood, for a long, long time.

 

✵✵✵

 

"Gyeom!" Jeongguk ran down to the kitchen, holding up an order. "Can you ask the kitchen why they're being so slow on everything?"

"Do _you_ want your head to get bitten off by a Roborian?" asked Yugyeom, shaking his head and wiping down a table. "What's going on?"

"I've got some foreign dignitaries who are pissed as hell, and if I don't get them their order soon--"

"They're going to have your liver for breakfast?"

Jeongguk gulped. "They don't allow cannibals here, do they?"

Yugyeom snorted. "Of course they don't," he said. "It would offend their delicate sensibilities."

Jeongguk laughed at that and Yugyeom shook his head. "What's funny?"

"Don't seem to have any qualms about us," he said, gesturing to the two of them and glancing around the kitchen. "Slaves, I mean."

Yugyeom gasped in mock outrage. "Jeongukkie, you know we aren't slaves," he said. "We're Wards of Eros I, haven't you heard?"

"Of course, I forgot," said Jeongguk drily. "My apologies, slave driver."

Yugyeom grinned sideways at him and Jeongguk couldn't help but smile back.

It was true, what they said--about the Wards of Eros I. Officially. They were under the care of the royal family, according to Sangchul and the assorted upper echelon of the casino. They were told from their first day that they had been taken under the care of the state, and in return for (not enough) food and (a really crummy, if they were being honest) shelter, they would thank their gracious new "family" by offering up their service to the state as they saw fit. Which, in this case, was running around a dining room or washing dishes until their hands burned raw. But this was just a repayment, a thanks for the empire taking them in and raising them up to be model citizens.

"The orders," said Jeongguk after a minute, and Yugyeom nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it," said Yugyeom, heading to the back of the kitchen. Jeongguk thanked his retreating back and ran back upstairs, catching sight of Sangchul waiting for them at the top of the stairs.

"Are you working on those orders?" asked Sangchul, his brow furrowed.

"I've sent Yugyeom to ask the kitchen," said Jeongguk., gulping. "Sir."

Sangchul nodded, and Jeongguk breathed a sigh of relief and stepped back into the dining room.

Jia had not returned, and Jeongguk, after a week of hushed whispers and glares whenever he started to mention her, had learned that perhaps it was better not to ask. It didn't help that Yugyeom gave him sympathetic looks every time he tried--not good sympathetic looks, either, like he admired him or felt what he was going through. More like he was watching a puppy get kicked over and over again and he was just hoping that it would stop soon.

He didn't want Yugyeom to look at him like he was something to be protected.

"I'll remind you not to swear in the kitchen," said the Xuntharian, calling after him.

"Yes, sir, sorry sir!"

Someone stopped him. It was a Bantonian by the look of her--hair colored bright red, squat and hunched over from the high-gravity planet.

"Can I get a refill on this drink--"

It was then that the explosions started.

Jeongguk smelled the smell almost before he heard them--it was sweet, and familiar, like the gardens back home. Something like honey, and like the forest, and like *home*, but underneath it all there was a sinister air to it.

And then the golden casino shattered apart.

No one would have known. No one would have assumed that the feared Coven, who were whispered to have made some dark deal with the masters of the universe itself in exchange for fearsome power, had somehow managed to infiltrate the security systems of the planet, shutting down the alarms before they could even begin to sound. And no one would have guessed that they would have used their magic to lull the people into a false sense of security--before setting off the charges around the dining room.

The explosions knocked Jeongguk flat on his back, gasping for air. He heard the faint cries around him, watching the chandelier sway and pieces of golden crystal fall off onto the floor around him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. There was ringing all around he his ears and he was in pain; his lungs burned, the air filling with smoke. Sangchul would be angry with him . . . that is, if Sangchul wasn't already lying in a bloody heap. He smelled blood, smelled something like barbecue, which made him think of how hungry he was, before he realized that it must be burning flesh, must be the guests and the billionaires and the trillionaires. All of their money couldn't plate their skin in gold, couldn't save them from the fires tearing up the dining room.

It was like watching a beautiful flower get crushed under a boot. It was tragic in a way, the way things fell apart, like a field of dandelions set ablaze. But oddly beautiful, he realized through the haze of smoke and falling plaster.

He would have lain their, exhausted and half-starved, if he hadn't heard his name. Called over and over again, as the security teams swarmed the area, looking for the perpetrators, wearing golden masks that hid their faces, looking like some kind of demons, like avenging angels. Some of them prodded at Jeongguk's food, telling him to get up, but he didn't say anything, didn't respond, just stared up at the golden ceiling and wondered if this was what heaven looked like . . .

. . . "Jeon! Jeon? Where the fuck are you, you--"

That was Yugyeom's voice, Jeongguk realized dimly. Yugyeom was running towards him, perhaps his only friend in the world, a look of open terror on his face, and he tried to raise his head to smile at him, to respond because it was Yugyeom, Yugyeom--

And that was when the second round of explosions went off, and Jeongguk stared at the ceiling and wondered if his family had seen something quite so beautiful before they had died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so they don't meet until Ch 4, spoilers, but until then we get more character introductions! sry about the backstory, but it'll be important as this fic is probbly going to be at least 100k so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually?? p happy w this?? wow, self-confidence is weird its been a good day
> 
> love you all thx for reading <3 <3

Jeon Jeongguk, Ward of the State, thought he was dead.

He had to have been dead. It made sense that he would be dead, after all of the explosions and sonic charges had shaken the casino with such force, brought the golden city to its knees. What he was seeing was just the golden haze of the afterlife, was just the aftershocks of the knowledge that he was, for certain, deceased.

. . . and Yugyeom . . .

The last thing he'd seen was the Guard swarming around them before everything had fractured into light again; light and smoke and the golden rays of the Guard's blasters. They were fighting back, he realized, and he heard the anguished cries of the dead and the dying lying around him.

It had been the rebels, the resistance, whatever you wanted to call them—it had to be. They whispered stories about them in the dead of the night, of how they stole supplies off of Erosian ships, of how they of how they were so clever that they could talk an official captain out of his own ship, of how they traveled through the dead nights of the stars in slender ships, so stealthy and cloaked that you wouldn't' be able to track them even if they were right next to your own face.

But Jeongguk didn't believe in fairytales, or happy endings. He knew that the stories were just that: stories. He'd known that since he was eleven years old, clinging onto every word of an older boy's story of how the rebels were liberating planets around the galaxy, with the underlying promise that any day they could be next.

He hadn't come to any sudden realizations. He hadn't burst out that it was stupid, that it was just a story. He'd just looked at the kids around him and had seen the open naiveté on their faces, the way that they were vulnerable, how they ached with the hope of the whole thing. And he had realized that they were trying to hold on, trying to find a story like the stories of princes and princesses and fairies and kingdoms.  

But there was no such thing. The only kingdom he knew of was a ruthless empire. Their king had murdered his family. And the only princes and princesses he had ever seen had simply watched.

And anything close to amgic in this world was almost never kind, in Jeongguk’s experience.

So Jeongguk had simply walked off, had peeled off from the rest of the group, and had sat beside Yugyeom, who was bouncing a ball off the wall, and without a word they had started passing it to each other, trying to get the most bounces off the wall. It was simple, mindless, and it had distracted him for the time being.

He thought he was dead, until his vision refocused he realized someone was leaning over him. That was the first thing he realized. The second was that he smelled really, _really_ good.

Like trees and _outside_. He didn't remember the last time he'd been outside.

"He's alive!" the Someone announced, and there were a few grunts of approval. "Are you with the Erosians?"

"I—I—" Jeongguk squinted, his head still hazy. "I'm a Ward of the State," he said, repeating the words back that he'd heard so many times.

The Someone nodded and stuck out a hand. "We need to get out of here, kid," he said, and Jeongguk found himself being pulled up, found an arm being slung around his shoulder. "Can you walk?"

"Don't—don't recognize you," said Jeongguk, stumbling along with him slowly. His head was still ringing, and he had the vague feeling that he was not performing the actions himself, but watching his body walk, watching his throat produce all the right sounds. He wasn't thinking—there seemed to be a lump of lead where that was supposed to happen in his brain.

"I'm not from here," said the Someone.

"Your hair is green," Jeongguk observed, glancing at the stranger. It was indeed; minty green, and it suited his oddly pale complexion. The Someone smiled. He was less intimidating when he smiled.

"It is," he said.

Jeongguk stopped.

The casino was strewn in ruins; golden uniforms littered the floor like fallen husks of corn, like the bodies of dead wasps on a summer porch, like cicadas when their season was over. The guests, in all their finery, were mostly strewn about, a few of them sitting in a corner while some men and women dressed like the Someone stood over them. Their hoods were up, the black fabric shrouding their faces.

And in front of him . . .

"Yugyeom," he breathed, dropping to the ground. The Someone swooped down to catch him.

His friend was staring at the ceiling, his bright eyes glassy. The light that always seemed to burn brighter, more mischevious around Jeongguk—or was that just his imagination? he hoped not—had gone out. White hair fanned out around his face like a halo. Scorch wounds littered his chest, his mouth open as if he was still trying to call for Jeongguk . . .

"That wasn't us," said the Someone, nodding to him. "Those are Erosian blasters." He paused. "You knew him?"

Jeongguk clung to the fabric of Yugyeom's shirt. It was thin, scratchy on summer evenings and not nearly warm enough on winter ones. "He was my friend."

"Ah," said the Someone, lowering his head. "I'm truly sorry."

Jeongguk looked at Yugyeom one last time. He couldn't bring himself to tears, not now. He didn't know why. Maybe because he had cried so rarely since he'd been taken that it seemed so foreign to him; maybe because he was in such a state of shock he couldn't even process that Yugyeom, Yugyeom was dead.

"I'm sorry, but we have to go now," said the Someone, pulling him along. Jeongguk stayed just long enough to close his eyes. He couldn’t stand to see them open, dead, like a candle gone out.

"Who are you?" asked Jeongguk belatedly.

The Someone led him to the front door of the casino—Jeongguk hadn't ever come through it before. He hadn't so much as left the casino since he'd arrived here. It seemed that his entire universe was entombed within these walls.

"My name is Yoongi," he said. "I'm with the Coven."

Jeongguk breathed. "So you are real."

Yoongi chuckled. "I'm real," he said. "Although sometimes I'm not so sure."

It happened so quickly that Jeongguk couldn't be sure what he was seeing. One moment, he heard a war cry, saw a golden suit of armor charging towards him. One of the Guard, it seemed, had survived and was running at them, blaster and mask lost but arms raised. He was bigger than the both of them, so tall, his eyes crazed—

The next, Yoongi raised his hand and a growth of—were those _vines?_ —formed along the man's skin, creeping up his head, growing there like warts, like a fungus, splintering. Jeongguk watched almost numbly as they encased his head, sprouting flowers and looking altogether too lovely for their casual brutality, causing his eyes to bleed red, and at last he crumpled on the floor.

"Sorry about that," said Yoongi, brushing off his hands. "We seemed to have missed one."

Jeongguk knew that The Coven were rumored to have strange, almost demon-like powers and magic, and he wasn't exactly a stranger to it seeing as how his father had died, but all the same . . .

Some of who Jeongguk recognized as the former guests of the casino were hurried past them, lead by a group of Warlocks who pushed them along roughly. Some of their faces were streaked with dirt and tears, others seemed angry, whereas even others seemed so shocked they didn't realize what was happening. A few were trying to argue, maybe bribe, their way out of it, but they may as well have tried arguing with bunch fo stones.

"Where are they going?" asked Jeongguk.

"The Coven will try them as we see fit," said Yoongi.

Jeongguk stared after them, frozen to Yoongi's side, wondering what they would do with him.

"They're war criminals, kid," said Yoongi after a moment of silence.

"And us?"

Yoongi pointed to some shuttles parked on the street outside, which had been cleared of the flashy speeders and shuttles that normally lined the front of the casino. Men, women, and children—most children—in dirty clothing were being shepherded onto the ships, almost like cattle, seeming to be in shock. Jeongguk had a brief recollection of the day his family had been taken, the day he'd been taken, hauled onto a trip, and looked at Yoongi in disgust.

Yoongi saw him looking and quickly shook his head. "We aren't—" he paused. "We're going to try to get as many of you back to your home planets as possible. For those who can't remember, or whose planets have already been taken by the Erosians, we'll try to put them with their people or drop you off at a neutral planet." He paused. "Do you have a home?" he asked softly.

Images filled Jeongguk's head, bright, saturated with gold and blood that he knew hadn't been there in the first place. Perhaps he'd painted it on in his own memories.

"No," he said quietly.

"Then we'll find you somewhere," said Yoongi.

This was his chance, Jeongguk realized dimly.

 _As soon as you see a chance, run._ The words of the guard filled his head. He hadn't even had to look for it; it had been dropped into his lap, by mere luck or fate or whatever he was supposed to believe in.  

"They killed my friend," he said numbly. "Took my whole family, too."

Yoongi didn't say anything, but Jeongguk thought he saw a glimmer of sympathy in his eyes.

"I want—"

Jeongguk stopped.

Yoongi prodded him. "What do you want, kid?"

Jeongguk grit his teeth. He was supposed to be smart. He was supposed to get his revenge by running, by disappearing. Get his revenge by living a good, simple life, by working and getting paid for it. He was supposed to get his revenge by settling down on some neutral planet far, far away from Eros I and _living_ , just living, simply and easily.

 _They’re growing, everywhere . . ._ Jeongguk may have closed Yugyeom’s eyes, but they followed him everywhere, from across the room. He could feel them on the back of his neck. Burning, teasing, so, _so_ sure of themselves.

But he knew that he could never live on another planet without flinching every time he looked up and saw a ship. He knew that he could never live on another planet without feeling unsafe, without wondering if this would be the day he was herded onto a ship again, by an unkind guard who wouldn't save him and would just send him to the mines, or worse . . .

"I want to tear them to shreds," he said quietly, resolvedly.

Yoongi held his gaze. "This isn't an easy life, kid," he said. "You'd be better off—"

"I don't want to be better off," he said. The images of the royal family flashed in his mind. "I want to tear them apart."

Yoongi stared at him appraisingly. "How old are you?"

"Thirteen," he said.

Yoongi nodded. "I was fourteen," he said.

Someone stopped in front of them. Older than Yoongi, but still relatively young, handsome. Fire burning in his eyes. Actually, Jeongguk could sense it coming off of him. The heat. He smelled like smoke and he asked, "Who's this, Yoongi?"

"Uh, this is—" Yoongi paused, realizing he hadn't ever asked the kid's name. "He's a Ward of the State."

"Not anymore, he's not," the stranger snorted. "What's your name?"

"Jeongguk," said Jeongguk.

"Does he have anywhere to go?" the stranger asked of Yoongi. Yoongi shook his head.

"He wants—" Yoongi started, sounding tired.

"I want to fight," said Jeongguk.

 _I’d want to fight with them._ Yugyeom, handsome and somehow adorable in his funny-looking way. Yugyeom. Dead eyes. Yugyeom. A halo, like he was some kind of saint. A martyr of old. _Join the resistance or whatever._

The stranger squinted. "How old are you?"

"Hakyeon—" Yoongi started.

"Thirteen."

"You know there's a lot of hotheads who want to fight," said Hakyeon. "Join up with The Cause and get themselves killed."

"You aren't with The Cause?" _The resistance._

"We're with The Coven," said Hakyeon. "Seperate."

"We don't rush into things," said Yoongi, staring at Hakyeon pointedly. "This operation took _months_ to—"

"I say we give him a shot," said Hakyeon.

"He's just a kid—"

"I'm _not_ just a kid, and I'm not a hothead, either!" Jeongguk said, trying to keep his voice measured. "I'll settle when they're gone. Not before. They killed my father in front of me. They took my entire planet. My sisters—"

"What's this?"

A regal woman joined them, wearing the same garments as the other members, but hers were gilded in silver. She had crept up so quietly Jeongguk hadn’t even notticed him.

"This kid wants to fight," said Hakyeon.

"I think he's a hothead," said Yoongi.

"I'm _not_ —"

The woman regarded him. "We aren't the rebels, or the resistance, The Cause, or whatever they like to call themselves," she said. "We can put them with you if you are, but we don't take just anyone."

Jeongguk looked at Yoongi. "You killed that man," he said quietly. "Without even touching him."

Yoongi looked almost guilty. "I did," he said.

"I want to learn to do that."

"It takes years, kid, and even if you do train—"

"We could put you on a nice planet, a safe planet, maybe even find you a family, a kid like you," said the woman almost sadly. "Wouldn't you like that?"

_D'you think you'd ever feel safe again?_

No. He wouldn't.

"I want to," said Jeongguk, and the woman sighed.

"We'll give him a chance," she said.

Hakyeon grinned and Yoongi looked almost sad.

"Right, kid," he said. "Welcome to The Coven. Might as well get you some new clothes."

_I feel like I’d always be running._

Well. Jeongguk was done running.

 

✵✵✵

 

The ship took off and Taehyung gripped the seats like he always did, and he couldn't help but notice Minkyu fighting off a grin. Taehyung glared at him.

"What's funny?"

"You're still scared of flying, aren't you?" he asked.

"I'm not," said Taehyung stubbornly.

"Stop teasing him, Minkyu, honestly," Eujin sighed. She was seventeen now, and beautiful, like their mother.  But warmer, somehow—and especially towards her little brother. So beautiful their father had declared that she would be married off to one of their allies any day now—probably one of the higher crime families. He knew that Eujin cared very little for all of the talk, but that she was happy just to be serving her country.

It was something Taehyung could never understand about his older siblings. No matter how much they insisted that he would understand one day—hell, he have understood by now, he was almost fifteen—he could never see how what they were doing was so great. Sometimes he wondered if he ever would.

"He's just teasing," said Eujin, settling into the seat next to him. The royal suite on their ship is sumptuous, but Taehyung's always preferred hiding in corners.

"D'you think he's going to—" Taehyung stopped and glanced at their father, who was sitting at the head of the ship, deep in conversation with the head of the royal guard. They were not friends, like he and Seokjin were—to be perfectly frank, the relationship that he and Seokjin had bordered on insubordination and what his parents would even venture to call "treason"—but he knew that his father trusted the captain of the guard very much. He was not a friend, perhaps, but he was a trusted member of the royal family.

Meanwhile, Seokjin was trusted, but he was generally relegated to the back of the room. He was just another guard for the time being—certainly a valuable one, and a wise companion to the somewhat excitable younger prince, but still just a guard. One day, perhaps. But his position as the guard of the youngest child did little to advance his career interests—not that he struck Taehyung as particularly ambitious.

"Taehyung," said Eujin, looking at him with large, dark eyes. "You know Father only does what he has to do?"

Taehyung sighs and kicks the floor. "I know," he says. "Eros I will bring peace and prosperity to the galaxy someday."

Eujin nodded encouragingly at him, and the look in her eye, almost proud, made him almost want to believe it.

“Look,” she said, pulling back her long sleeve and showing him her hand. In a second, golden energy is dancing around her palm, like two twin ribbons made of light. She smiled at him. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

Taehyung nodded, his palms itching. He was forbidden to play with his gifts, he knew that. He had to wait until he’s of age, seventeen by the Erosian custom, to harness his powers. There was a fear that he wouldl deplete his energy too soon and not know how to restore it. He knew that Minkyu was training before he was of age, and he had a suspicion that Eujin had been as well, under their mother’s watchful gaze, but they seemed to be holding off on the youngest Crown Prince for now. Maybe because he had a reputation for being impulsive. Taehyung didn’t know.

That didn’t stop him from playing with his powers on his own time, especially when he was younger. He’d almost gotten caught a few times, too. But for the most part, he only knew how to do what Eujin was doing right there; to summon the golden energy from somewhere deep inside himself.   
Well. He _could_ do more. He felt it calling inside of him, sometimes, when the door was locked behind him and he was in darkness but for the light dancing across his skin. But he wasn’t as impulsive as they said, and he certainly wasn’t stupid.

In the end, the planet was a bustling city that may have well once been beautiful. It was not anymore. Scorch marks adorned the buildings closest to the city center, and their father would stand on the tallest one of them all, computer screens showing his face to the masses who stood in the streets as if they were unsure how they arrived here.

The soldiers there greeted them with all of the vigor expected of them, but their smiles were tight, tired, relieved that their fight was finally over. Their uniforms were somewhat subpar of what Taehyung would consider appropriate dress code and cleanliness conducts, but their father seemed to forgive it, clapping the head of them on the shoulder rather informally and telling him sincerely that he had made his country proud.

If there was one thing his father excelled at, it was propaganda.

And there was one other presence there as well: the Crimson Syndicate, a well-known crime family that operated under the premises of several supposedly legal businesses, that included, but were not limited to, construction, city planning, and perhaps more humorously of all, aid work.

Taehyung supposed that they had gall, at least.

They were also one of the Kim family's closest allies. The Kim family preferred to keep their reputation clean; sure, they could have their soldiers officiate the dealings of illegal substances under galaxy-wide laws, and he could have them openly run unsavory bars, clubs, and casinos across the country, but the Crimson Syndicate was more than happy to run many of these things, to launder the money and keep their name out of the filth, all at a price, of course. He saw them interspersed among the soldiers, who looked rather uncomfortable in their golden, comparatively pristine uniforms next to men who dressed in red and black colors, who preferred to hide their faces and display all sorts of nasty-looking weapons on their person.

Their father greeted them as well, and they responded more tightly, without the devotion that the Erosian soldiers had shown. For them, this was a mere business transaction and nothing less.

Despite their less than satisfactory attitude, Taehyung's father would concede that they were indeed useful. They were not bound by regular codes that would have all of the nearby systems decrying the Erosians for what they would call "war crimes". They were simple criminals in the eyes of the intergalactic law, nothing more.

"Minkyu, Eujin, Taehyung," their father called them over as they stood in the top suite of the capital building of the city. It looked like it had once been a sumptuous office, but had since been covered over with war plans, holograms of the surrounding city scattered around the walls. Nevertheless, several nicer couches had been found for the royal family, on one of which their mother reclined, looking straight ahead in that practiced manner of her's. "There is someone I'd like you to meet."

He pushed open to the door to a more private office, their mother rising from her position and following after them dutifully. Taehyung glanced at Minkyu.

"What's going on?" he hissed, slightly concerned.

Minkyu looked at him like he had the intelligence of a space barnacle and didn't respond. Eujin fidgeting with her robes.

In the middle of the office, there was a man dressed in an elaborate crimson outfit, two blasters strapped to his sides and two swords making an X on his chest. Their father nodded towards him, and the man made what appeared to be an attempt at a smile. It resembled more of a grimace.

There was a boy at his side as well, who was drowning in robes that resembled that of his father, his outfit highly ceremonial but containing little, if any, real practicality.

"This is Junyoung," said their father, nodding towards the boy in the robes. "And his father, Youngsu. The leader of the Crimson Syndicate."

The man, Youngsu, inclined his head.

"Today, I will speak to the people of the city," their father continued. "I will announce that we have graciously accepted the terms of their surrender, and that they will henceforth live in peace. The Crimson Syndicate will aid in their reconstruction. And we will extend an offer for protection and prosperity.”

Taehyung nodded subconsciously, almost automatically. Such words were an endless refrain in his ears, a symphony of propaganda and word salad.

“I will also announce that the Crimson Syndicate and the Kim family will henceforth be joining in a political union,” their father continued. “Sealed by the marriage of the heir to the Crimson Syndicate to my daughter.”

Taehyung’s gaze snapped to Eujin. But she seemed at peace with the news; perhaps she already knew? Why had no one thought to tell Taehyung? His favorite sister, married off to the hero of one of the biggest crime families in the galaxy . . .

Youngsu pushed his son forward. Despite his background, Taehyung could see the clear fear in his eyes. Maybe it was from the appearance of the royal family; he’d been told that they appeared to be golden, literally. Maybe it was fear of their reputation, for the sort of magic they possessed in their bones. Or maybe it as just the suggestion that he was going to be married; he appeared younger that Eujin, perhaps Taehyung’s own age.

Eujin smiled serenely, and Taehyung saw their mother in her for the first time. He didn’t like it. He wanted his sister, who would sleep in his room when he had nightmares as a child, who played with him in the royal gardens, who spontaneously announced that she was going swimming in the middle of winter.

Eujin was his sister. But she was also the Imperial Crown Princess, and there were duties expected of her.

Minkyu elbowed him in his side. “Stop staring,” he hissed. “Behave.”

Taehyung glared at him, but he settled his face into a neutral mask. It was in his genetics, he supposed.

Eujin stayed ahead of him, walked side-by-side with Junyoung, who seemed to be leaving as much horizontal space as possible. Their parents led the way, following by Youngsu, who walked side-by-side with Minkyu. Taehyung watched the back of Eujin’s head, trying to scrutinize what she was thinking.

There had been no shock on her face when their father had given the news. Only acceptance. She _must_ have known.

Anxiety prickled at the back of his neck, coupled with fear and indignation. He was the crown prince. He was _important._ Sure, he might not inherit the throne, but he was still a Crown Prince ,and he had the right to be informed about such important developements. He was almost of age!”

Their father continued onto the balcony. The people beneath them were still standing, still lost, their weapons and their dignity stripped away from them in a battle that Taehyung was sure lost them many family members. Part of him hoped that their father would realize that they had already lost enough, part of him hoped that maybe their father would think to spare them, or even just conclude that further aggravation was unnecessary and risky.

He started his speech in the typical way—speaking of the greatness of the empire, how they had fought long and hard but how they were finally here to offer a solution to the bloodshed, how he was so glad that the people could finally see reason. Taehyung personally thought that it was all a load of horse shit, but he wasn't exactly going to break in and argue. He was too busy focused on his sister, who stood on the edge of the balcony looking so much like their mother it made his heart ache.

He wondered if she felt any sympathy at all for the people beneath them. He wondered what she was thinking right now.

The heir to the Crimson Syndicate, for his part, looked terrified. Maybe it was the heights, maybe it was the fact that they very well knew that everyone down there wanted to tear them into little pieces and feed them to the dogs. Taehyung watched him a little curiously, but reservedly. He should have been used to this by now; he knew full well that the heir to such a brutal crime empire must have witnessed worse, and that it would only escalate from here. The Crimson Syndicate did things that even Taehyung's father wouldn't even dare to mention, though he might encourage it behind closed doors.

"—and, finally, I have one last thing to announce," his father concluded, looking somewhat warmly onto his daughter and the young mobster. Taehyung knew full well that the look was merely a farce, just like their offer for peace, just like the rest of the monarchy. "I am please to announce that the Crimson Syndicate and the illustrious Kim monarchy will henceforth be entering a partnership sealed by the marriage of Lord Youngsu's son to my daughter, the Crown Princess—"

Eujin stepped forward at the mention of her name, smiling the smile that she did in from of the cameras; a calm, aloof smile. Not like the ones that she gave Taehyung when they talked late at night about the gossip around the palace, not the mischievous grins during their games around the palace as children.

But their father never finished his sentence, never got to introduce the Crown Princess Kim Eujin, because just as he was speaking, the world exploded and his sister shattered into blood and stars.

It happened so quickly that Taehyung wouldn't even remember the sequence of events as anything but a series of images, flashing one after another like a gallery.

 

Black. Knocked on his back. Stars in his eyes, his vision clouded.

 

Burning. Something burning. Staying down, covering his face.

 

Shouting. People are shouting and someone is dragging him away. He catches a glimpse of his sister on the ground. She looks like a broken wing, her body crumpled and twisted.

 

Somewhere soft. Someone stroking his hair. He mumbles out a few words. He thinks he's asking for his sister.

 

He doesn't get an answer.

 

✵✵✵

  


He came to, his eyes fluttering open, and someone shouted that the Crown Prince is awake.

"Taehyung," his mother sat beside him on a couch. He was in the suite of the capital building, the private office. Guards were crowded around the area, Seokjin standing beside the couch. He must have been the one to yell for him.

Taehyung knew that Seokjin must have been the one to drag him out of the fire, must have been the one to stroke his hair and set him on this couch, but for now his gaze was fixed straight ahead, and his expression betrayed nothing.

"What happened?" Taehyung asked, glancing around. "Where's Eujin? Minkyu?"

"Minkyu is with your father," his mother said. Her voice was concerned, her usual facade shattered, and Taehyung was touched. Briefly, he wondered how much of the concern was for him and how much of it was for Imperial Crown Prince Kim Taehyung, third in line to the throne.

 _No_. Because he saw Eujin's body, and he saw the expression on his mother's face. He was the second now.

Imperial Crown Prince Kim Taehyung. Second in line to the throne that millions crave.

"Eujin?" he asked, even though he knows the answer. His mother shook her head.

Tears sprang to his eyes, but his mother grabbed him by the shoulders, fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Monarchs," she said, and Taehyung saw the pain in her eyes, the pain of a woman who had lost a child. "Monarchs _do not_ cry. Especially not in public. When we get home, you're allowed to go to your private quarters and let out whatever emotions you have there, if you must. But not here. Not now."

Taehyung looked at her in shock, then dried his tears hurriedly.

His sister was dead. He was second in line to the throne. And he would mourn in private, but not here, because monarchs did not shed tears for the ones that they loved.

"Yes, Mother," he said, and his mother nodded and stood up. Any tenderness, any crack in her mask from before was gone.

"You can come with us now," she said.

Taehyung nodded and started to follow after her, legs shaking as he did so. When he stood up, he thought he was going to black out until a hand shot out to grasp his arm. Seokjin stared at him for a second longer than necessary (he wasn’t even technically supposed to be touching him _at all,_ but everyone in the room was too shaken, too concussed to notice), squeezing his bicep reassuringly and Taehyung saw it in his eyes.

_I'm sorry._

Taehyung nodded and stepped away, following after his mother who led them into the elevator and down, down, further down into the basement of the building, into what she told him were the holding cells. Their guards stood behind them, invisible just as they were trained to. Taehyung wanted to cry into Seokjin's chest like he did when he was a little boy and Minkyu scared him or hurt him. Want

His father and Minkyu were waiting by the elevator, accompanied by Youngsu, who nodded to the the pair of them.

"Where are we?" The hallway was dark, industrial. Taehyung didn't think he'd ever been in a room so . . . practical before.

"We have apprehended those responsible for the attack," said his father. "The perpetrators have already been executed, the executions broadcast throughout the entire system."

"Already?" Taehyung asked. "How long was I—"

"Two days," said Minkyu, but the sneer was out of his voice, replaced by hot anger. "You slumbered for two days while our sister was dead and those murderers roamed the streets."

"Minkyu," his father scolded. Minkyu's gaze snapped to him. "Taehyung was closest to the blast. The medic said that you have sustained major head injuries."

That made sense, at least, because Taehyung's head was throbbing like a second heartbeat.

"Closest besides our children," snapped Youngsu. "My heir is dead."

"As is my daughter," said his mother angrily. "Don't forget that."

"It is inconvenient for you," said Youngsu. "For me, it is devastating. My other children are not ready to bear the burden of the crown."

Anger shot through Taehyung. "She was my sister!"

Youngsu stared at him dispassionately. "He was first in line," he said. "Your sister would never have inherited."

"Can we move this along?" asked his father, sending a hard glare towards Taehyung. He would hear about this later.

"I thought everyone was dead," said Taehyung.

"Everyone but their families," said his father. "We apprehended the brother of one of the assassin's this morning. This way." He led them down the hallway, to an iron door at the end. A guard stood by the entrance and nodded to the emperor when he approached, unlocking the door and stepping aside.

"You first, Taehyung," his father said, pushing him inside.

The man inside was chained to the wall. Taehyung couldn't believe that he'd just been brought in that morning; he looked like he'd been in the cell for decades, his bones visible through the shirt that had been slashed. His face was pummeled into someone that didn't even resemble human or human-like anymore. He seemed to have been beaten just an inch before death, and when he smoke, his words were slurred and slow, like a child.

"Please."

"This man helped kill your sister," said his father. "As the second in line to the throne, now, I think it's time you began your training."

"T-training in what?"

"In energy manipulation," his father answered. "You feel it, don't you? In all of us, calling you . . ."

And Taehyung knew what he meant. It was most potent in his weakened state; he felt the energy of his father, his brother, his mother, the Lord Youngsu thrumming, sure and steady, his own depleted from his weakness. He felt the energy of this man, not quite as strong but still potent, still enticing.

"Take it," said his father.

"I did'n kill anyone!" the man pleaded. "I did'n know!"

"He killed your family, Taehyung," said his father. "Take his life. Now." He paused when Taehyung did nothing. "For Eujin."

The mention of Eujin sent his blood boiling and he held out his hand to the man, feeling the energy within him and he _tugged_ , tugged the energy towards him and he felt a turn in his gut, and when he opened his eyes he saw the golden spiral come from somewhere deep within the man's chest and funnel into his outstretched palm.

It was . . . _wonderful._ A sense of euphoria, almost, as the energy went into his body. Like a drug. He forgot the pain in his head, forgot the hunger gnawing at his heart, and focused on Eujin's face, drawing the energy out, more, more, more . . .

He felt his energy dwindle for a second, and realized if he took any more he'd kill the man. He remembered the first time he'd watched a man die . . . the anguished screams of his family . . .

He lowered his hand and the energy, and the accompanying high faded.

"I'm done," he said quietly.

"Done?" asked his mother.

"Done?" asked Minkyu. "This man is still alive."

"He killed your sister," his mother added, and Taehyung felt the anger again, but this man was so _small._ He was so weak. There was so little left in him, and Taehyung was full.

"I'm done," he repeated.

"Your energy levels still aren't where they should be," said his father. "Take the rest."

"No."

"No?" his father squeezed his shoulder. "That's an order, Taehyung."

Tears sprung to his eyes again, from the pain. The pain of what, he wasn't sure. "No."

A slap sent him spinning to the ground, but it was not his father the emperor, but his mother who delivered it. She strode forward, hair streaming behind her, and placed her hand directly on the man's head. He was so weak he didn't even jerk away.

Golden energy glowed for one second, like a firework, then fizzled out and the man slumped to the floor. Dead.

"That is how Erosians mourn," his mother said, venom in her voice as she advanced upon him. "Not with tears. With actions. With blood. Do you understood?"

Taehyung sunk into the floor and nodded.

"Good," his mother said, and she walked out. The others followed after her, and it was some time afterwards until Seokjin walked into the room, picked him up off the floor, and dragged him away from the room. He cried in the elevator, sobbing into his sleeve, but Seokjin didn't say anything, and neither did anyone else when the Crown Prince Kim Taehyung stepped out of the elevator, face newly cleaned, second in line to the throne and full of misery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They'll meet soon!! next chapter!! i swear!! in the meantime Yoongi here and a complete badass we love a magical murder-y rebel boi
> 
> ...I'm mean to The Bois. Wow. Sorry guys it gets better I promise.
> 
> thanks for reading!! also everyone who comments and kudos-es (?) you are gr8!! I hope you have a wonderful day!! <3 <3 <3 also everyone who is in school be healthy don't stay up too late reading/writing fic!! 
> 
> <3 <3


	4. Chapter 4

The sleek tip of the CS Adder sailed along the edge of the Iascoria system and plunged into the outer reaches of the galaxy, containing within its hold, among other things, one crew, in relatively good shape, though somewhat damaged, one shipment of various goods originating from Eros I, one royal guard, and one prince.

“I hate this,” the prince mumbled, pacing up and down in his quarters. “Why do we have to make a fuel stop?”

“Because we're on a ship and we don't want to end up in the middle of an asteroid belt," said the guard, looking at his charge with something between amusement and irritation. "I don't like it either."

"Don't worry so much, Seokjin, you'll give yourself wrinkles," said the prince, lounging on the industrial-issue chair in his quarters like a throne, with all the ease of a king surveying his kingdom, not a prince currently on an illegal smuggling ship. "I would just prefer that I didn't have to spend as much time as possible on this rusty death-bucket. Does it smell like mold in here to you? I thought it did, but maybe it went away. Or maybe I've gotten used to it . . ." He shuddered at the thought.

Seokjin rolled his eyes. "Your majesty—"

"No _your Majesty_ , we're done with _your Majesty_ ," said the prince imperiously. "I'm Taehyung. Tae. Call me Tae."

"Prince Taehyung—"

"When we land I want to walk around." Taehyung stood up and opened the storage cabinet he'd been issued, digging through sumptuous clothing for something . . . nondescript. "You're welcome to accompany me. Or not."

"Taehyung, you know I don't like this," said Seokjin.

"I'm going," said Taehyung. "I've been kept on one planet long enough, and we might as well make use of our time here. How long did they say the refueling would take?"

"Two to three hours."

Taehyung nodded. "Two to three hours it is," he said. "But I'm going to get off of this damn ship, mark my words."

Seokjin rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Will you be needing anything else, Prince?"

"Taehyung," Taehyung repeated. "And no. Thank you, Seokjinnie." His parting words were warm.

Seokjin smiled at him, then stepped outside, the door whooshing closed behind him on the prince, who crouched on his metal throne and tried to forget.

 

✵✵✵

 

Jeon Jungkook stood on a dirty bar on Iilysia 60B and wrinkled his nose, glancing around in disgust. Music filtered from some act in the corner, who were probably dredged up off the street. They certainly couldn't play Xuntharian horn properly, Jungkook thought as he watched the largest, some humanoid species with a proboscis, possibly Warfrurian, he wasn't exactly sure. Yoongi stood on his left, with an expression of at least equal disgust present on his face as he watched the procession of various scum filter in and out of the bar, feeling the slime stick to his shoes.

"This is a bad idea, Jungkook, I'm telling you." His companion shifted beside him, wrinkling his nose and glancing up at the ceiling, from which mildew vaguely dripped. Iilysia 60B was a swamp planet, full of sinkholes and not much else, but it did leave much room for the criminal underbelly of the system to sink into. Like this fine establishment, for example, which Jungkook was sure was comprised of at least half system-wide offenders, probably with a quarter to a third charged with violent offenses.

"My sources are never wrong," said Jungkook, turning his nose up and sniffing. "Just because I have somewhat unorthodox methods—"

"I just don't like this idea, Jungkook, that's it," said Yoongi. "We hold very little power over this system."

"No one else is controlling this place," said Jungkook, glancing around the bar. "No flags. No emblems. Totally lawlessness." He sipped his drink. "The closest thing to a controlling system is the Totality."

The Totality were a ruthless gang, but Jeongguk didn't consider them any worse than any of the other scum that decided they were going to be the next masters of the universe. They were also most likely one of the closest things the Erosians and their allies had to a contender for the title.

"Why would he even show up here?" asked Yoongi. "This is as close to enemy territory as you can get without getting set on fire and burnt as a witch upon arriving."

"I think they'll be fine," said Jeongguk.

Yoongi snorted. "I'm sure they will be. I just don't like being here."

"Please," said Jungkook. Purple energy crackled at his fingertips, a warning and a reminder for Yoongi. The pendant around his neck grew hot."I doubt we'll have very much trouble. Unless you're scared?"

Yoongi snorted at him and says something like "punk".

"There he is. Told you. Sources."

Jungkook pointed across the bar, to where a stranger had sat down, dressed in clothes that were unmistakably luxurious despite his clear attempts to conceal this fact. Brown and grey wools that looked soft to the touch, the lower half of his face hidden behind a scarf, much of his body obscured by the folds of the fabric. Behind him trailed another stranger, wrapped hastily in a cloak, but Jungkook didn't miss the crackle of gold beneath it. A royal guard's uniform.

He snorted. He's certainly had some nerve, showing up to place like this dressed in the uniform of what was rapidly becoming the most hated regime in the galaxy. _He must be confident._

That was fine. Jeongguk knew that he was a good actor, and an even better liar. He drained his drink while Yoongi watched him with widening eyes—non-alcoholic, he wasn't an idiot, but Yoongi didn't know that, and he enjoyed seeing the look of horror on his face.

"So what's your plan?" asked Yoongi.

"We follow him," said Jeongguk.

The prince turned his face and Jeongguk saw him for the first time was stunned to see a pair of wide brown eyes turn to him, impossibly large and far too innocent-looking for the things Jeongguk was sure he had seen and done.  He couldn't see the rest of his face, but he saw his skin, the way that it's almost golden in sheen, felt the way the energy crackled around him, and knew this had to be him.

"I don't like this," said Yoongi. "Why can't we just take him in now?"

"I'm telling you that I have a plan," said Jeongguk. "Just trust me on this, okay?"

Yoongi stood still for a moment, twisting his bracelet around his arm anxiously. "I don't like this," he said.

"You don't like anything much," said Jeongguk, craning his neck. "Least of all my ideas."

"When did you become such a pain in my ass?"

"Probably around the time you picked me up from the casino, but it could have been earlier than that," said Jeongguk.

"Brat," said Yoongi, swatting him on the back of the head.

The prince was still loitering, but the guard soon whispered something in his ear and he nodded, standing up and finishing his drink. It was funny; looking around the prince almost looked . . . lost.

"What's that about?" asked Yoongi.

"Probably doesn't like showing his face here," said Jeongguk.

"He'd be stupid not to," said Yoongi.

"Or arrogant," added Jeongguk, glancing over at the prince. "He's moving."

The prince was pushing his way out of the crowd. "I can track him," said Jeongguk.

"He should stay close," said Yoongi. "Keep your distance. You know those Erosians are dangerous."

"There's two of them."

"There's two of _us_ , and last I checked you don't have ancient bloodline magic you've been training since childhood for," said Yoongi.

"True," said Jeongguk. "But there's one big difference between us."

"What?"

"I'm a good liar," said Jeongguk, grabbing a drink from a nearby table and downing it, ignoring the garbling complaints of the patron. The liquid burned his throat."And royals are gullible, entitled idiots."

They pushed through the crowd as subtly as they could. The streets were packed, but not so much that they couldn't move, the vines crawling over the city walls, over the rusted homes and businesses that seemed to have been built out of shipping containers, obscuring the hazy glowing lights. He didn't know if the cover was in their favor or not. The guard was certainly looking back a whole lot, but Jeongguk figured it was more out of a general sense of paranoia. If they thought they'd been made, they'd be running by now.

The prince and his guard stopped by a nearby refueling station and hovered outside of a ship that was, by all of Jeongguk's assessments, a piece of junk. Slender, a merchant ship that most would have recognized immediately as a smuggler's vessel.

A lithe figure stood by the fuel pump while a brawny humanoid adjusted the dials. They nodded coolly to the royal pair, but didn't bow or do any of the pomp-and-circumstance pretentiousness Jeongguk was expecting.

He frowned.

"That's bizarre," he said quietly.

"What is?"

Jeongguk shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "Stay hidden."

Yoongi gripped his arm. "What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" asked Jeongguk. "Sticking to the plan."

And with that he kneeled to the ground, grabbed a handful of dirt, and smeared it on his face. Yoongi stared at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Just—do the same while I'm talking," said Jungkook, running his hands up and down his body to rumple his clothing. "And keep your head down."

And with that he strode over with his hands on his head and tried to look pathetic.

"My lord," he said, falling to his knees.

At the sound of his voice the guard snapped around, plunging his robes beneath his cloak to grab what was no doubt a weapon. The prince snapped his gaze to the guard and muttered something under his breath, flicking his hand in what was no doubt an order to stand down.

The prince walked forward, unafraid. Of course he wasn't. Jeongguk didn't even know why they bothered with guards.

Although there were rumors of an incident years ago . . . rumors that a bomb had been set off in a city and that one of the royal family had been injured. That's why they said the royal family had been sequestered, had been loath to appear in public ever since then. They said that the heirs were under much more strict surveillance . . . which was why Jeongguk was so surprised when he heard through his sources that Kim Taehyung was taking a surprise trip into such an uncontrolled, lawless system, accompanied by minimal security.

"Who are you?" asked the prince.

"My name is Jeon Jungkook," he said. "I'm seeking safe passage."

The lithe figure strolled over. Their face was hidden behind a mask molded into the shape of a terrible monster. When it spoke, their voice appeared female, but it was garbled, affected by some kind of voice-changer.

"We don't give handouts," she said. "Tell the scum to get lost."

"My friend and I are running from our master," said Jeongguk, trying to look pathetic.

"And why did you come to us?" asked the prince. "What makes you think we can help you?"

"Your—your clothes," said Jeongguk, trying to appear as innocent as possible. As gullible. Not like he looked up at the prince and wanted to strangle him on sight. "You're wealthy."

"Do you have any money?" asked the girl.

Jeongguk shook his head. “But,” he said, holding out his hand. “We stole something.”  
And from behind his back he produced a necklace, inside of it, glowing purest white, Kafsima. The most potent rocket fuel in the galaxy.

“What—” the girl reached for it. “Where did you get this?”  
“We stole it,” said Jeongguk. He was lying, of course. He’d bought it off a black market dealer for far too much, and it would have been more if he hadn’t have used his status as a member of the Coven to intimidate the man.  
The girl hesitated. The guard spoke up. “You sound like you’re on the run from some pretty dangerous people. Who is your master?”

“We belong to a member of the Totality,” said Jeongguk, and he instantly saw the shift on their faces. Except for the girl, of course, whose face was hidden.

He knew what the Erosians thought of the Totality. Anyone who was abused by them wouldn’t hesitate to join their enemies.

Jeongguk saw the gleam in the prince’s eyes. And what royal would pass up the opportunity to poach his enemy’s prize? Even if that prize happened to be two people.

"I'll pay," said the prince. "Think of it as sponsorship. A gift."

Jeongguk tried to appear grateful, but he knew he'd heard those same sentiments before.

"And in return?" he asked.

"Loyalty," said the prince. "We could use help around the ship anyway, eh, Jennie?"

The girl shrugged and swiped the Kafsima from his hand. “I’ll take this,” she said. “Just keep them in line.”

Taehyung nodded and the girl stalked off. "Don't mind Jennie," he said. "She's a little on the . . . well, she doesn't like people. In general." He shrugged. His tone was too casual, too playful, too _friendly_ for a murdering psychopath. Which Jeongguk was sure he was. "You can call your friend now."

Jeongguk glanced him over one last time and yelled, "Yoongi!"

Yoongi came stumbling out from behind the ships, hands over his head.

"This is my friend," said Jeongguk. "Min Yoongi."

The prince nodded appraisingly. "I'm glad you've found your way to us, Min Yoongi," he said. Yoongi stared at Jeongguk like he was crazy, and he was sure he was going to get an earful for this as soon as they weren't surrounded by enemies. "Would you like to come inside?"

 

✵✵✵

 

“These are my quarters,” said Taehyung, showing him into the room. Jeongguk nodded while Yoongi stood behind them, outside the door. Jeongguk could sense the energy radiating off of him, could feel the way that his body was tense, waiting for an attack at any moment. The guard stood behind him, having put on his mask at some point to hide his face. “Actually, this is supposed to be the medbay, but they cleared it out. Jinnie is sleeping in the crew’s quarters.”

“So where are we supposed to sleep?’

Taehyung put his hand to his chin and thought. "Huh," he said. "You know, I actually have no idea."

Jeongguk watched him. They'd been touring the ship for a little over ten minutes, and he was already confused. He'd seen his father, had seen what he had done to people. Had seen the way the higher-ups of Eros I acted as if everyone was beneath them, almost as if they were androids instead of people. But Taehyung didn't appear to be made of the same mold; more often than not he appeared confused or stumped. This never would have happened on Yeqi; the slave-drivers there would never have admitted to being at a loss for words or ideas. The mere suggestion would have meant a caning.

But that didn't mean that he was any less of a threat. Maybe he was a bit touched in the head, or maybe he was putting on a front to appear less intimidating. Maybe he really did want their loyalty; it was an odd ask; for any other Erosian it would have been stressed, but it would have been a given.

It was best not to think too much about it. Kim Taehyung was a mere stepping stone. He was there to serve his purpose, and that was all.

"We can sleep in the cargo hold," said Yoongi, coughing into his fist. "We don't mind."

"No—of course not," said the prince. "You're our guests."

"I thought we were your sponsors," said Yoongi. He was looking at Jungkook. His tone was oddly confrontational, and Taehyung frowned.

"I would like you to be my—to be my friends," said Taehyung.

"Of course," said Jeongguk, shooting Taehyung a small smile that he hoped didn't appear too forced, or didn't reveal too much of his plans to watch the prince choke on his own blood. "My friend is just nervous. We've been someone else's property for too long."

Taehyung frowned and sat down on a metal chair on the center wall, looking troubled. "Of course," he said quietly. "Of course." He shook his head as if to clear it. "You have been gravely wronged."

"The Totality is cruel, my lord," said Jeongguk.

"Yes, well, my—" he paused. "I'm sure you know that my family is not above such acts."

Jeongguk tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"You should know that I'm Kim Taehyung, Crown Imperial Prince," said Taehyung. "of the Grand Erosian Dynasty."

Jeongguk tried to appear surprised.

"You knew?" asked Taehyung.

"I knew you were wealthy, your majesty," he said, staring up at him. "But to us, the difference means little."

"Don't call me that," said the prince, waving his hand. "There are two beds here. Seokjinnie doesn't like sleeping here because the engine keeps him up. Jeongguk, you can stay with me if you feel more comfortable, and we'll find somewhere for Yoongi."

"Shouldn't you be with your guard?" asked Jeongguk.

"He thought that, too, but I could tell he wasn't sleeping well so I kicked him out," said Taehyung, shrugging. "And I only need a guard when I'm around dangerous people. You aren't going to hurt me, are you, Jeongguk?"

Jeongguk stared at him and wondered how he would look when he was dying. Wondered if his smile would be as radiant, wondered if he would still be so confident, so assured in his own skin. Sure, he could stumble and think and act confused, but he still had that royal air of _assurance,_ of confidence in his own intellect.

"Of course not, my lord."

 

✵✵✵

 

Yoongi slammed Jeongguk against the door of the cargo ship hold when they were alone, fire burning in his eyes. Jeongguk glanced at the vines creeping up his his wrist, stemming from the bracelet.

"Calm down before someone sees you," said Jeongguk. Yoongi stared at him, and Jeongguk nodded to his wrist. Yoongi hurried to cover it.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked. "We could have killed him by now.Isn't that the plan?"

"It's not the plan, Yoongi," said Jeongguk.

"You know they won't let you back without a kill, Jeongguk," said Yoongi. "They're already angry that you've been away so long."

"I know my duties, Yoongi," said Jeongguk, looking up at him.

"It doesn't have to be this way, Jeongguk-ah, you can—"

"I know what's expected of me, Yoongi," said Jeongguk. "I have no qualms with taking a life that deserves to be ended."

Yoongi looked him up and down. "You think that you're so cold, so above it all," he said. "You have emotions, Jeongguk. And deep down, I think you have more of a temper than you give yourself credit for."

Jeongguk shook his head. "You're lying to yourself, Yoongi," he said. "And you know our relationship is strictly professional. You're pushing the boundaries of what's expected of us."

"Goddamnit, Jeongguk—" Yoongi shook his head. "You can't just—"

"Yoongi," said Jeongguk. "Would you like to know the plan?"

"I'd have liked to have known the plan hours ago, before we even stepped food in that bar," said Yoongi.

"He's got to go back to his people at some point, right?" asked Jeongguk. "For now, we act like simple, bumbling, loyal servants. They won't even know we possess magic; they aren't trained enough to sense it on our skin."

"And then?"

"And then," said Jeongguk. "We kill every last one of them. The royals, the court." He lifted his chin to look at Yoongi. "And I'm going to make him watch, just like his father made me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello friends guk is a nice psychopath i swear hes had a rough time 
> 
> thx for reading!! <3 <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been a rough fuckign week but im back ... i may be a week late on some stuff sry guys life is getting crazy and work keeps scheduling me more than I asked for despite me still being in school and Having A Life uwu 
> 
> thanks for reading as always guys!! <3

The engines roared and Jeongguk glanced up. “And we have liftoff,” he said, a sly grin forming around his face. He clapped Yoongi on the shoulder. “I should probably get back to his royal highness.”

Yoongi shook his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Jeongguk.”

“Of course I do,” said Jeongguk.

“Cockiness is folly,” said Yoongi. Jeongguk flinched at the words, but recovered quickly.

“If you don’t like my plan, then you can get off in the next stop,” he said. “But I’m not stopping until every last one of them is dead.”

 

✵✵✵

 

“You can’t just go around adopting people,” said Seokjin, pacing back and forth in the medbay. Taehyung shook his head.

“They paid their way through,” said Taehyung. “And they will be very grateful to us.”

“What do you want from them, Taehyung?” asked Seokjin. “Do you think they’re going to want to be your friends? Eros I has massacred half of this galaxy and colonized the other half.”

Taehyung flinched at that. “They could be useful.”

“Taehyung, you can’t just–” Seokjin shook his head. “There’s something off about this. I can feel it.”

“I’ll remind you, Seokjinnie, that I don’t even need a guard,” said Taehyung. “I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself.”

“Well, I’m still moving back in here.”

“You won’t get any sleep if you do that,” said Taehyung. “You’re too light of a sleeper. No. The younger one—Jeongguk—will move in here with me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Taehyung.”

Taehyung tilted his head. “He was freed from slavery not an hour ago and given safe passage,” he said. “Do you really think he would bite a hand that has given him so much?”

“He’s unstable, that one,” said Seokjin. “I can sense it on him. Can’t you?”

“I see his eyes,” said Taehyung simply.

“And?”

“They’re scared eyes,” said Taehyung quietly. “He’s scared, Seokjinnie. That’s all.”

“He’s defiant.”

“Underneath that,” says Taehyung. “He doesn’t know what to do. He’s playing a part.”

“How would you even know that, Taehyung?” asked Seokjin. “Last time I checked, Erosian magic doesn’t come with mind-reading.”

“I don’t have to,” said Taehyung. “I used to see those eyes every time I looked in the mirror.”

Seokjin was quiet.

“We’re going to treat them well,” said Taehyung.

“What is this?” asked Seokjin. “Are you trying to make up some guilt for the crimes of your family? Is that what this little pet project is? An attempt to absolve your guilt?”

Taehyung blinked. “I think you should leave, Seokjin,” he said quietly.

“Taehyung–”

Seokjin glanced at him one last time. “You know I care about you, Taehyung.”

Taehyung tried for a smile. “Of course I know that,  _ hyung,”  _ he said.

Behind the door, Jeongguk moved out of the way and tried to understand what he had just heard. Seokjin glanced on him on his way out.

“How long have you been out here”?“ he asked skeptically.

“I just got here.”

“Did you . . . here anything?”

Jeongguk shook his head. “Couldn’t make out anything through the door,” he lied. “There wasn’t much to hear, anyway.”

Seokjin nodded, then frowned. “You look familiar,” he said.

Jeongguk flinched. The truth was, Seokjin  _ did  _ look familiar as well, but he wasn’t sure where he knew him from. He’d seen countless Erosian guards during his time on Yeqi, but he wondered how a guard from Yeqi could possibly have ended up serving under the Imperial Crown Prince. So he simply shrugged.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Lot’s of people say that.” He pulled his hood closer around his face, and Seokjin shrugged.

“Very well, then,” he said. “The prince is inside, if you would like to see him.”

“Thank you,” said Jeongguk, and watched him walk way.

Taehyung  _ was  _ inside, and he glanced up when Jeongguk entered and hovered anxiously in the doorway. He needed Taehyung to trust him. To like him. Scratch the fact that Jeongguk wasn’t exactly  _ adept  _ at social situations. And the fact that his head was still reeling from whatever conversation he’d heard from inside.

“Oh,” he said. “You can—” he gestured to one of the beds—a cot, really—built into the alcove of the wall. “If you’d like.”

“Of course,” said Jeongguk, sitting down and glancing at him. Trying to appear nervous—which he wasn’t, of course. He had nothing to fear from an unguarded Kim Taehyung. The Erosian magic may have been powerful, but the Coven had trained him well and he would not be nervous about the third child.

Nevertheless, with their proximity so close he could feel the magic crackling off of his skin. It was difficult to ignore. The air was full of it. He hadn’t come into contact with many practitioners of the ancient magic—it was mostly confined to the royal family, the secrets locked away in a palace they said construction only of gold and precious stones.

Of course, Jeongguk knew that wasn’t true. Gold was too soft to be a pure building material, would dent every time, wouldn’t hold it’s shape. It was not ideal for a defensive building. More likely it was an alloy of some sort. He wasn’t sure.

But it was certainly less impressive to claim that a palace was made out of a gold  _ alloy.  _ And everything about the Kims came down to the impression they gave. Even Taehyung, who for all he knew was putting up this  _ innocent  _ act all for Jeongguk, who was trying to twist him around for something.

Taehyung hadn’t been lying. The engine  _ was  _ very loud in this room, and he doubted very much that he would be sleeping very much. Not that he  _ would  _ be sleeping in this room, not with a known practitioner of . . . unsavory magic.

“Loud, eh?” asked Taehyung. He had curled into the room while Jeongguk hadn’t been paying attention to him, but he turned back on his side, looking at him without any pretense or front. Just a boy curled up on a bed in space with golden rings in his irises. But then again, this was all an impression, all a ruse, because no one in the Kim dynasty was innocent.

He looked into Taehyung’s eyes—that beautiful brown color, but with the gold ring underneath. A reminder of his heritage.

No one.

“My mother always said that I sleep like the dead,” said Taehyung absentmindedly. “Seokjinnie too.”

It took Jeongguk a moment to realize that he was speaking of the queen. The proud, alabaster woman he’d seen so many years ago, and here Taehyung was, speaking of her so casually.

Of course, he’d seen Taehyung too. All those years ago, standing on the platform. But he’d been too far away to see his face, too far away to recognize him. Whoever this was standing in front of him was a completely new iteration, but this didn’t matter to Jeongguk. All Taehyung had to do was play his part.

“My parents always had to wake me up five times,” said Jeongguk quietly. “I had—I had a job at my grandparent’s store.” This was how it worked. Bonding and such. Give Taehyung a little, get a little back. Information was currency, and even as his fists balled by his sides he knew that if he could get what he wanted out of Taehyung it would be worth the unpleasant memories.

Taehyung’s eyes widened with interest. There was that innocence again, that token naivety that might have been charming if Jeongguk hadn’t known who he was.

“So,” he said, wetting his lips with his tongue. “You weren’t born into it?”

“Born into what?” Jeongguk realized.  _ Ah. Slavery. “ _ No,” he said quietly, with an air of finality that signified he didn’t want to talk of it further. Taehyung seemed to get the hint and rolled over.

“Alright, then,” he said. “Get some sleep. Jennie and the rest of the crew want to make another stop tomorrow.”

“Why?”

Taehyung shrugged. “Stars only know,” he said, and promptly nodded off.

Jeongguk watched him for a little while, before taking the blanket from his bed, walking out into the hallway, and finding a small common room. He slept with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, his fist clenched tight around the necklace.

_ (“Not good enough! Again.” _

_ Jeongguk glared at the trainer. Hongbin just nodded to him and Jeongguk prepared himself for Sanghyuk’s next attack. He slammed his gloves together and bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet, trying to pretend that his muscles weren’t aching with exhaustion. He had yet to understand why The Coven thought hand-to-hand combat was so important—something about learning discipline, or to that end. He had asked Yoongi why they didn’t just start training them with magic straight away, but Yoongi had just looked down at him from the bridge of his nose and muttered something about a meeting.  _

_ Not that he was looking down at him much anymore. Jeongguk was fifteen, and he was very quickly catching up to him. _

_ Boxing. It was an old-fashioned sport, and members of The Coven even went so far as to say that it was brutal, crude in its essence. There were martial arts they saw as more acceptable, and he was required to learn those as well, but when it came to raw, brute training and strength, boxing couldn’t be beat. _

_ “Ready for another round?” Sanghyuk leered. _

_ Jeongguk liked Sanghyuk, he really did. As much as he liked anyone in The Coven, maybe with the exception of Yoongi. He was a couple years older than Jeongguk himself, but he didn’t look down on him for that like some of the more immature training students did. Jeongguk didn’t know where they all came from—members of The Coven very rarely had children, as they were seen as emotional attachments that might detract from their craft. But by any means, Sanghyuk was certainly one of Jeongguk’s favorite  _ hyungs.

_ But right now he was getting on Jeongguk’s last fucking nerve. _

_ So he nodded and pulled on his faceguard. It reminded him of the helmet he used to wear when he was a child, reminded him of his father. And even though members of The Coven weren’t supposed to rely on their emotions, it was with his father’s face in his mind, his hand on his head as he smiled at Jeongguk and proclaimed that he would one day reach the stars, that he knocked Sanghyuk onto the floor, ruining his winning record, 17-1.) _

He woke up with a blanket around his shoulders and was unsure as to how it got there. The room was dark, but for the faint lighting inalid in the wall panels. Below the decks, his friend laid in the hull and waited for sounds of distress that never came. A guard slept soundly while a prince glowed faintly through the night, tossing in his sleep. 

 

✵✵✵

 

“What do you know about the stowaway?”

“He’s not a stowaway.”

Kim Jennie looked up.

Auberon was standing in the common room of the crew quarters. He was an odd sort; his body seemed to be coated in what appeared to be blue-gray, rock-like plating, bedecked in a strange, blue species of alien moss—even his face. As a result, he couldn’t see, at least not the way that Jennie would have thought as “seeing”, and his hearing was severely impaired. From what she could tell he emitted some kind of seismic waves and had to train for years to learn how to speak normally. It wasn’t a normal kind of speaking—his voice was monotone, but it almost seemed to vibrate in the air around it.

Nevertheless, Auberon was a friend, even if he did stand nearly seven feet tall and wore nothing but for a utility belt thrown from one shoulder to the opposite hip and a pair of pants they had picked up on some planet years ago.

Kim Jisoo lounged on a chair. She had spoken first. The closest thing Jennie had to an older sister, she was dressed rather unassumingly and was in the process of sharpening a katana-like blade with a pocket laser sharpener. A fancy new gadget she had picked up a couple planets previously and had been finding excuses to use ever since. 

“We picked them up while we were refueling,” said Jennie, flopping down on the sofa opposite her and taking out a knife from the inside of her jacket, using it to pick out the dirt from underneath her fingernails. Jisoo glared.

“What?” asked Jennie, continuing to fix her nails.

“That’s rude,” said Jisoo. “Uncivilized.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re smugglers,” said Jennie. “Living on the edges of society and stopping only in systems with minimal government intervention.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to be  _ rude,”  _ said Jisoo pointedly, and Jennie sighed and put the knife away.

“Where was I when you were inviting stowaways on board, anyway?” asked Jisoo. Jennie shrugged.

“I think you said something about how captains need sleep and passed out,” said Jennie. “Which was odd, ‘cause I don’t remember us ever making you captain.”

“I’m the pilot,” said Jisoo.

“Auberon’s co-pilot,” said Jennie. “And he makes really good cookies. And he’s nicer to me.”

Auberon nodded in agreement.

Jisoo rolled her eyes. “Where are they  _ from?”  _ she asked. “I swear, I walked into the hull and the little creep was meditating or some shit. Was just staring into space.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure he’s taller than you,” said Auberon helpfully.

Jisoo glared.

“She’s glaring, isn’t she?” asked Auberon. Jennie nodded.

“Ah,” said Auberon. “Sorry.”

“The hull is always cold, Chi-Chu,” said Jennie. “We don’t heat it that much during long journeys, remember? Saves fuel.”

“Still,” said Jisoo uneasily.

“Look,” said Jennie. “They gave us Kafsima.” She took out the necklace from her jacket and Jisoo’s jaw nearly dropped. It was almost comical, and Jennie would have laughed if she wasn’t so scared of Jisoo’s temper. For someone so sweet, she was wicked good with a blade when she needed to be. And with her fists.

“You’re mentioning this  _ now?”  _ asked Jisoo.

Jennie shrugged and Jisoo swiped it from her hand.

“Wha—”

“You’ll probably take us for a joyride,” said Jisoo. “We need to sell this . . . this could set us up for a long time if we pay our cards right . . .”

“I would  _ not—”  _ Jennie sputtered. “I can’t  _ drive,  _ Jisoo!”

“Jisoo-unnie,” said Jisoo. “And you’d probably convince Auberon to take you.”

Auberon shrugged. “That is very possible.”

“Why didn’t you just take them and kick them out?”

“His  _ lordship  _ decided to take pity on them,” said Jennie, rolling her eyes.

Jisoo shivered. “I hate carting around Erosians,” she said.

“We still don’t know they’re—”

“Have you seen them, Jennie?” asked Jisoo. “Heard them talk? They’re Erosian. No doubt.” She sighed. “And now there are more of them than there are of us.”

“At least they’re paying us a lot,” said Jennie. “And those two are slaves. I doubt they’ll be too sympathetic to any Erosian cause.”

“Former slaves,” said Jisoo. “And you never know. Watch your back, okay?”

“Then you do too,” said Jennie. “You know me. I can take care of myself.”

Jisoo shrugged. A red light blinked about and she groaned. “Small asteroid field. Autopilot wants me up there.”

Jennie mock-saluted her as she walked off. Auberon glanced back at her.

“I will protect you from any threat,” said Auberon. “Do not worry.”

“Thank you, Auberon,” said Jennie sweetly, and Auberon nodded and walked off. Jennie stared after them, then took the knife out and began picking her nails.

 

✵✵✵

 

Jeongguk woke up when, by the circadian adjusted level of lights in the ship, it was still very early in the morning. He registered briefly that there was a blanket put around him, having not even realized the night before. He figured that it might have been Yoong—probably trying to play his part as older brother like he always did—and shrugged it off. It was best to be awake before the target was. He didn't want to be caught off guard. 

He heard humming in a deep, sweet, almost sultry voice. Something dramatic, Jeongguk didn't know the tune. "Guk!" said a surprised voice, and Jeongguk found him once again face-to-face with the illustrious Kim Taehyung, apparently an early riser. "I didn't think you'd be up so early. Normally everyone yells at me."

"Just, uh," Jeongguk scrambled for an excuse. "I don't usually sleep that much."

Sympathy—or faux-sympathy—colored Taehyung's gaze. "Nightmares?" he asks. 

Jeongguk shrugged noncommittally. "Something like that," he said quietly. Taehyung frowned and sat next to him, then reached out ahand. Jeongguk flinched away, and Taehyung frowned. 

"Sorry," he said, and he did  _ sound  _ truly sorry, even if Jeongguk was leery on his actually feelings at the moment. "I just—your hair!"

"My hair?" Jeongguk cocked his head. 

"It's . . . pink." Taehyung frowned. "Where are you from? I didn’t think there's anywhere where that color occurs naturally."

Jeongguk scrambled to cover his head, realizing that his hood fell off during the night. 

Many members of The Coven had strangely-colored hair; it was a side-effect of the magic that flowed through their veins. Yoongi's mint green to match his strange way with plants (Jeongguk enjoyed, for a while, teasing him about the pastel shade while Yoongi told him to sit down and shut up until he could beat him at sparring—which was a long time), Jungkook's vibrant pink to match his more . . . explosive inclinations. He supposed they could have dyed their hair to cover it, but the magic was fickle and the color often faded after a week or so. Jungkook personally thought it was a conscious choice of the magic, marking itself on their bodies, but he could never be sure.

"Oh," said Jeongguk. "The uh. They dyed it."

Taehyung frowned. "Why?" he asked, cocking his head.

"They, uh," Jeongguk grasped for a reason. "They liked it that way, I guess. Thought it made us look . . . pretty."

Taehyung's gaze sharpened. "Did they treat you very badly?"

Jeongguk shrugged, knowing full well what Taehyung was thinking of. "They didn't treat us well," he said. "But that was to be expected."

"I'm sorry," said Taehyung. "We can change it, if you want. I'm sure—”

"That's alright!" said Jeongguk a little too quickly. Taehyung cocked his head. 

"You don't mind it?"

"Not really," said Jeongguk. 

Taehyung shrugged. "Alright," he said. "It does make you look pretty. If I can say that."

Jeongguk shrugged noncommittally, not sure how he was supposed to feel about the compliment. "You can say whatever," he said.

"I woke up because of the engine," said Taehyung as a way of changing the subject. "It gets especially loud when we land."

"We're landing?" asked Jeongguk.

Taehyung nodded, grinning. "Welcome to Chamenos," he said. "Yet another lawless planet. You'll love it here." He looked at Jeongguk's face warily. "They don't have much influence here, don't worry."

"H—what?"

"The Totality," said  Taehyung, and Jeongguk suddenly remembered his cover. "It's mostly an oligarchy. Just a bunch of rich gazillionaires who probably made their money selling organs or something. And the working class." He shrugged. "From what I hear, the people prefer to stick to their villas."

"Oh," said Jeongguk. 

"That's it?" asked Taehyung. He stretched out, propping his feet up on the table. "I hear the beaches are  _ amazing _ ." He glanced around. "Jin won't want me to go out."

"That's—” Jeongguk thought. "That's probably smart." He didn't want to have to chase the prince around a city. If he lost his target, he'd never hear the end of it from Yoongi. 

"You're quiet, Jeon," said Taehyung.

Jeongguk shrugged.

"Just hope I'm not talking too much," said Taehyung. "I'm not all bad, I swear." He shrugged. "You probably haven't heard very good things about me, have you?"

There were a lot of things that were said about him; Taehyung knew that. They said that the monarchs of Eros I seemed to be made of pure gold; not merely blonde and tanned, but in a way that, when the three suns hit them just right, seemed to make them seem like statues, as if they'd been dipped in molten gold and set out to dry. They said they were dangerous; they said that Kim Taehyung, the youngest prince, was unpredictable. They said that he was powerful, but that he had a terrible temper; that whenever he was particularly angry you could catch golden sparks flying off his skin. They said that he caused trouble, that this was why the older prince was allowed on a few diplomatic missions—such trips had been cut down dramatically since the Princess Incident—but he was forced to stay inside. There were even rumors that he was in some sort of twisted sex-ring—one of Taehyung's least-favorite rumors, but he had caught Jin snickering silently whenever it came up.

"You're feared," said Jeongguk honestly. He didn't want to incense the prince. He'd heard of his fickleness. "All of you, I guess."

"My kind has not been kind to the galaxy, that is true," said Taehyung, glancing at him. "Don't believe all of it, yeah?"

"Of—of course not," said Jeongguk. 

"Great!" said Taehyung, springing up. "You see that?"

He pointed to a light, wavering yellow. Jeongguk frowned. 

"Means that we're about to touch down," said Taehyung. "C'mon." He extended a hand to Jeongguk. "Let's go exploring!"

"The others—"

"The crew has to unload a bunch of smuggled goods and they won't want us around," said Taehyung. "And we can leave a note for your friend and Seokjinnie." He tilted his head. "Are you coming or not?"

Jeongguk sighed, figuring that he had no choice--not if he wanted to keep eyes on his target. Suddenly, he thought, Kim Taehyung was much more trouble than he was worth.

“Fine,” he said, but he didn’t take Taehyung’s hand.

"Is that a thing?" he asked.

Jeongguk frowned. "Is what a thing?"

"You don't like to be touched," said Taehyung. He sounded truly sorry, and Jeongguk frowned. Now was not the time to be fooled by a sympathetic Kim Taehyung. "Is it—I don't know. They mistreated you, didn't they?"

They _ did  _ mistreat him—"they" being the casino staff on Yeqi, which was run by a certain someone's ruling family. But it was best that he kept his cover intact and so he nodded. 

"I won't, then," said Taehyung. He dropped his hand. "Are you ready?"

Jeongguk glanced at him and wondered, for perhaps the thousandth time, what he was supposed to make of him. "Ready," he said, and checked his inside pocket, grasping the hilt of the knife there and following him down the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> auberon is the sweetest sweetheart and I love him so much ok guys you don't understand
> 
> thanks everyone!!!

**Author's Note:**

> just an fyi they won't **meet** until ch4! There's a lot of lead-up and I don't want to use flashbacks. Stay tuned!!
> 
> Thanks for reading!! If you want tell me what you thought or hit me up on twit I'm @timedsntexist. <3 <3 <3 <3
> 
> EDIT: I uh. Am typing this on fightersblock which does no support italics and I've been using ** to mark those and I. Did not take those out. *facepalms*


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